Paul & Ruth decided they needed something in common.
They took their Mini-Coopers to the track.
Paul edged out Ruth on the back leg and
crossed the finish line first.
After he stopped Ruth nailed him.
Now they have two Mini-Coopers
at the collision shop.
John came to my place and asked me a question,
“Why?”
He stared at me.
He looked grim.
“Why ask a question?” I said.
He seemed happy with that.
I opened the door for him.
Pinky and I went to the dog park.
I watched the Evantonian Police post a notice--
banning all Linkyshire dogs from the dog park.
After they left,
I mangled the sign with my bare hands and buried it in the sand.
The happy dogs that frolic in the park don’t care.
They like other dogs.
I am like them except
I have to use my hands to catch a frisbee.
Believe me, I’ve tried otherwise, but nothing works.
Fred is the Fire Chief in Linkyshire.
He has had a fascination with fire since childhood.
He dreams of fires in houses and factories.
He likes people too.
He dreams of people in fires.
He dreams of saving them
or not.
Either way it is a good career for Fred.
Paul & Ruth decided to do something together.
Normally, this is not advisable in their case.
What they decided was to go parachuting nearby.
The plane let them out.
They parachuted down on top of our building.
An argument ensued.
Pinky and I went to the coffee shop.
It was really hot outside and...
really cold inside.
Pinky had to go outside to warm up.
The music sounded like ten thousand
syncopated pheasants.
We had a good time in the coffee shop
taking note of its design.
Some pots crashed.
It made my face twitch.
People heard Mrs. Magellan shouting.
We all went to her door and shouted back.
She shouted again.
Finally, John came out.
What is going on? we said.
She killed a bat with a piece of toast.
Flicked it.
John was coming home from some trail he invented.
Dirty and sweaty beyond belief.
He looked at me and said,
“You can’t take anything for real.”
OK John.
Everyone has been asking me about my name.
Well, some of you have.
Maybe, actually, nobody.
But I wish to proclaim this fact.
Today is the day.
My name is Brewster.
It is I.
The bugs, the birds, the traffic.
The hairdryer, the typing.
The fridge, the A/C.
The clink of glass and dish.
The mosquito outside chasing me inside.
I cleaned up after the party.
Pinky cleaned up after the party.
We heard the fireworks going off.
Pinky stuck her head out for a minute and
saw above the corner of the neighbor’s house
the smallest little sparkle.
It made her happy.
I saw the Beer truck on TV.
It was pushing Mini-Coopers out of the way.
Right by the fountain.
Right in the middle of town.
Like a plow.
Now I know.
I stopped at a light and went into my haze.
An Evantonian Beer Truck was in front of me.
I didn’t have much to see except the advertising.
Then, two LPD cruisers went crazy and rammed it.
The cruisers bounced off, and rammed it again.
The truck shuddered.
The LPD took the guy’s keys and mashed them.
It seemed a little harsh.
I’m confused.
John came to my door.
He wanted some milk for his cereal.
It was noon.
I gave him some milk in a cup.
I didn’t see him for the rest of the day.
Later, there was some cheese outside my door.
It was in the shape of a cup.
