One good turn deserves another, so let’s ride this wild pony and have more fun than a barrel of monkeys.
Now that I’ve got this bug up my ass, let me tell you another story. Feast your eyes on this, but don’t try this at home; it’s a half baked idea. Now let’s get the ball rolling.
Even though I’d just washed my hair and couldn’t do a thing with it, I was going to paint the town red. I’m no spineless wimp. I live life in the fast lane, but I missed the boat, missed by a hair, which caught me off my guard. I had to think outside the box and drive the porcelain bus to get out of town by sundown so I could eat, drink, and be merry.
It was a white-knuckle ride, but I finally made it by the skin of my teeth. It was time to start playing the field. With so many men and so little time I had to pay attention to details, because you can tell the men from the boys by the price of their toys.
When you start picking out people you start leaving people out, which is fine and dandy for finding the pick of the litter, but I had to break a few eggs to make an omelet.
The first man was all hat and no cattle, so I told him to take a long walk off a short plank. The second man was nervous as a cat on a hot tin roof, so I told him not for all the tea in China. The third man was a jack of all trades and a master of none, and you gotta put your foot down when he’s pulling your leg.
It was time to jump from the frying pan into the fire. I know good things come to those who wait, but time was of the essence. By this time I was glowing like a good deed in a naughty world and ready to stick it where the sun don’t shine.
The fourth guy was not all talk and no action, and made me hot under the collar. There was a little of this and a little of that, and he was better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick. Since he was chomping at the bit and really laying it on thick I thought it’s now or never and now’s as good a time as any, so we went full speed ahead and I jumped on the broomstick.
The next morning I woke up and smelled the coffee. Love is a many splendored thing, but golly gee willikers, I can’t keep running with the foxes and barking with the hounds.
That’s all folks, but there’s more where that came from. Stay tuned for more next week. And speaking of next week, do you have a cliché you’d like to see me use in a story?