:: S.L. VIEHL.
(Note: this bit of parody is being offered today because the
What a fine club: The SFWA has decided to revise its rules for poultry membership. As of January 1, 2009, only turkeys will be allowed to join, and then only if they stay on their side of the road. The SFWA people are a bunch of road-crossing-chicken snobs. That's why I don't go to cons.
I'm tired: I went to bed at 3:00 a.m., and I woke up at 3:13. Yeah, I know, but it's Florida and it's hot, and besides, the real-estate guy didn't tell me when I bought this house that my street is a major route for the Migratory Chicken. Clucking bastards…but anyway, I decided to stay up. I wrote 4,587 words by six, taking a break for a quick breakfast of fresh eggs (benefits of migrating chickens outside my doorstep). Then I wrote 9,482 more words before lunch. After lunch, I had to delete 5,233 words because they were all "mellifluous". (Literally. I actually used the word "Mellifluous" five thousand times. It happens when you're distracted by chickens.)
Oooooh, pretty! I found some wonderful bedsheets today with pictures of chickens on them. I'll use them in a quilt. Wouldn't it be cool if I could find some panels with pictures of roads too? Then my quilt could go, "chicken-road-chicken-road-chicken-road"….
Lit snobs: Oh, so Harold Bloom doesn't like chickens! Well, he can just sit in his ivory tower and eat game hens, then. I'll bet he's just jealous because they cross my road and not his. Or else he sits on his porch and throws empty cans at them…"Git outta my street, chickens!"
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