Posted by fascinatorium on September 7, 2014 in General frolic, Happiness | 3 Comments
See that dog? That dog’s armpit smells like corn chips.
I know these things.
No, it isn’t my dog.
Haiku? If not, then where in god’s name do you buy your corn chips? I really got nothing else.
Nah, I’m taking a break from the poetry. But funny!
Sitting at the South Orange NJ Transit station eastbound platform. And here it’s definitely NOT the smell of my own poop, but there’s something horrendous emanating from the garbage can or the rooftop restaurant patio next door…and it ain’t corn chips.
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