"Because in New Orleans, everybody gets to be a jerk sometimes."
Quoth: "A mournful cry escapes my lips/someone stole my rubber grips."
What's next to go? The pedals? The wheels? When the bike is stripped down to the skeleton, perhaps you can give it a proper funeral and burial - along with another ode.
Yes, Mimi, this will not end well, I fear.
The handwriting is on the wall....
...and the scavenger gods walk by night!
What fun, Arthur. Don't you love the little riffs that sometimes happen in blog comments? I know I do.
This risks becoming ode-ious.
Hey, Robert & Mimi, let's not lose sight of the fact that's a bicycle out there that needs our love, okay? Thanks! A.
poor widdle bike. :'(
Thanks for sharing, Termite. I will convey your sympathies next time I open the door.
T., I just noticed the time stamp on your comment. Go to bed!
What's next to go? The pedals? The wheels? When the bike is stripped down to the skeleton, perhaps you can give it a proper funeral and burial - along with another ode.
ReplyDeleteYes, Mimi, this will not end well, I fear.
ReplyDeleteThe handwriting is on the wall....
ReplyDelete...and the scavenger gods walk by night!
ReplyDeleteWhat fun, Arthur. Don't you love the little riffs that sometimes happen in blog comments? I know I do.
ReplyDeleteThis risks becoming ode-ious.
ReplyDeleteHey, Robert & Mimi, let's not lose sight of the fact that's a bicycle out there that needs our love, okay? Thanks! A.
ReplyDeletepoor widdle bike. :'(
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing, Termite. I will convey your sympathies next time I open the door.
ReplyDeleteT., I just noticed the time stamp on your comment. Go to bed!
ReplyDelete