Inane conversations of a Deadbeat Dungbeetle

Lazy Saturday morning intutions lead to long drawn conversations (mostly with myself but the is hardly the point here.)

Crazyness starts like a cold bubbling soda poured down your shorts and creeps up into your head where it makes itself comfortable after going round and round like a cat patting it's bed before sleep which reminds me, last night I saw a dog go about tugging clothes of clotheslines and shredding them up efficiently down a row of houses. Wish I had stayed long enough to watch the reaction (of the people, not the dog)in the morning and the pleased grin on the face (of the dog, not the people) at a good day's (night's in this case) work. At least it doesn't have to long for company.

Maybe, I was deprived as a child of playthings called people. Maybe, that explains why I am like a puppy starved for love. The pupplebubble needs to be invented.

It keeps a person in this bubble with an Internet connection and a laptop with people all around outside the bubble. It also helps you blend into the background so that you are alone but not lonely.

And nights need to be banished along with the terrors it brings