He claims he is a wise man, yet he speaks utter nonsense.
The happy man is spreading good cheer with happy dust.
As they are drinking lemonade that was given to them last year, which as gone bad, Willie and Wilma are watching the stray mutt, shitting on their neighbors flower bed.
Two nasty alley cats are going at it, while Willie and Wilma are eating burnt, dry toast.
She’s basking in the fake sun, reading fake news, and working on her fake tan.
She’s dreamy eyed, and tongue tied.
Wearing his favorite Space Cadet pajamas, he watches TV in his favorite chair, and mumbles away to himself.
Agnes, the goddess of children’s story telling.
Fancy Fran and Dandy Dan met at a friend’s house. With in minutes, they fell in love. They immediately left for the airport, eloped, and took the first flight to Las Vegas, where they went to a chapel, and tied the knot. A quicky marriage that lasted one day. He went to the court house the very next day, was granted a divorce. When he awoke, he realized it was all a dream.
He spouts off so much bullshit, he has a shovel and bucket, to clean up his crap.
Flapping her lips. Not making sense.
Made a fresh pot of coffee, and she never showed up.
He’s happy. She’s smiling. All’s good.
Riding the express train of thoughts.
The compass is pointing him straight to the gates of hell.
Walking onto a pile of shit.
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.
He’s known as the number one, incorrigible asshole.
Sleep walking in a mid-town, trash filled alley.
Clairvoyant said, “The future looks bleak.”
The unicyclist, loves to entertain the folks while playing the fiddle.
All aboard the train of thoughts.
His boat is slowly taking on water. The crew are disobeying orders and jumping ship, one member at a time.
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.
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.