Ennui

I have been beset by crushing ennui. It kind of popped up the other day.
I was walking outside the feebage and it was sitting in the bushes. I
saw a shadow in a glimmar and then it was on me. I thought I would come
to harm, but ennui seems content to dangle off my neck like a twisted
albatross of sorts.

Russ found me pacing the living room of the feeb farm. Technically, it
was his turn to take duke to the weightroom, but he let me go. That's
how I came to be on the exercycle, next to duke, watching a room full of
women wobble their asses at me (aerobics class). I think this is a kind
of hell. So many nice treats but I can touch. I can barely look. If a
particularly nice speciman wombles by, I'm beset by all sorts of nice
jewish guilt. Ts ass is so much better, isn't it? Wouldn't you rather be
looking at ts ass? Hasn't ts ass been there for you when you needed it?
Wouldn't ts ass be a pillow on a cold stormy night? I'm forced to hang
my head in shame at the altar of ts ass and remind myself that I am
fortunate enough to cuddle with it whenever its there.

Ts ass aside, I've been thinking some rather strange things, as par the
jon course. Who is susie? Why is she in the paw paw patch? What is a paw
paw patch? Does she a rottencrotch? When I was a wrestler, my coach used
to threaten us with immediate and painful dismemberment if we
lollygagged and spoke horrors of susie rottenrotch and mary shebangs or
something like that. We didn't know what to do with susie rottencrotch
anyway. All we were fit for was humping men in spandex. I'm now
convinced that susie in the paw paw patch is susie rottencrotch, and her
crotch is rotten because of those damn paw paws. They're a yeasty
ferment.

The bad tree grows bitter fruit, he said. Then I shall sow mine, I
replied.

I grow tired. Of people racing me while I ride. They are like so many
ants in need of a good squishing. The problem with squishing ants is
that there's no fundamental challenge. An ant is squished like our
president smirks. Still, the teenagers and men with their shiny rims and
low slung seats glare pompously, as if their tens of thousands of dollar
investments could not be easily shugged off. All I need is to roll the
throttle and they're dots in my mirror. Invariably, they catch up. I
don't like hurting my engine in break in.

D out

~ For we walk by faith, not by sight ~