All ye caffeine junkies, drink up, and get wired.
Basking in the sun, eating pretzels.
Surrounded by sharks. No way out.
He’s known as the ‘why’ man, for he is always asking the why of everything.
Eating cheese. Lots of cheese, as in Cheddar cheese. Yummy. Woke up in the morning, constipated. Not a good way to start off the day.
Passing time. Chewing gum. Blowing bubbles.
Sweeping the detritus off the sidewalk.
Took a walk on the tame side, not the wild one.
Elliott always walks backwards, because he wants to make sure that he didn’t miss anything. He believes in seeing and living in the past tense. He says that will never change.
Jim is having a wonderful conversation with the bathroom mirror.
As she was leaving, he said to her, “naked or clothed, I still love you, and that will never change.”
She’s savoring the all around beauty, of the numerous wild flowers.
She lives in a household full of mad, whacked-out people.
Living the life of a nomad.
Her Sunday breakfast special, soupy pancakes.
The daily daydreamers bus has arrived.
Willie and Wilma are at the kitchen table, drinking day-old brewed coffee, and both are wondering why it tastes like shit.
She’s basking in the fake sun, reading fake news, and working on her fake tan.
Not a good day, to deal with the village idiot. He is really, really out to lunch.
He spouts off so much bullshit, he has a shovel and bucket, to clean up his crap.
She said, your hearing me, but not listening. He said, oh.
Made a fresh pot of coffee, and she never showed up.
He never does what the play book says to do. Just wings it, and hopes for the best out come.
Riding the express train of thoughts.
Eyes like daggers, panties wadded up in a knot, he knows not to say a word.
As she was heading to the door, she hollered out “never again, never again, you ruthless shit bag.”
The winds are blowing through, that sounds like a jet engine.
The streets have an eerie feeling.
Orange man doesn’t save the day.
A dyed-in-the-wool jackass.
Clairvoyant said, “The future looks bleak.”
The unicyclist, loves to entertain the folks while playing the fiddle.
All aboard the train of thoughts.
His train of thought has gone off the rails.
He’s known to be the worst of the worst, for making bad decisions.
The members of the local chapter of the rainy days blues fan club, is now in session.
For no reason, she is all grins and giggles.
Having an enlightening conversation with a clothing store mannequin.
Throughout the city, the blanket of dense fog, has that eerie feeling.
Waiting for the train to nowhere.
The planets are on a collision course of mass destruction.
Mr. Idea Man is down in the dumps, because he cannot think of any new ideas. He’s hoping it is only a temporary lapse, as people of all walks of life, come to hear him. If he doesn’t, he may have to look for another line of work.
He is so full of shit, there’s absolutely no room for toilet paper.
The local potty mouth club, is now meeting in the town park, with coffee and donuts, for their weekly gabfest of gutter talk.
He said, “Oh shit.” She told him to watch his mouth. So for the rest of the day, he looked into the hand held mirror, never to put it down.
He’s known as the bloviating airhead.
He uses a fork to eat potato chips.
He’s known as the man with the dead pan voice of ribald humor.
He’s known as the village’s number one neat freak.