read dozen's of books about heroes and crooks...
... and i learned much from both of their styles.

/puzzle

stepped on a pop top....blew out my flip flop

Wasting away again in Margaritaville.
Searching for my long lost shaker of salt.
Some people say that there is a druid to blame,
but I know, it's my own damn fault.

yes, i am a pirate, 200 years too late...

the cannons don't thunder, there's nothing to plunder...

... and over 40 (ok, 30) victim of fate.

Speaking of parrots...

Praline: Hello, I wish to register a complaint . . . Hello? Miss?

Shopkeeper: What do you mean, miss?

Praline: Oh, I'm sorry, I have a cold. I wish to make a complaint.

Shopkeeper: Sorry, we're closing for lunch.

Praline: Never mind that my lad, I wish to complain about this parrot what I purchased not half an hour ago from this very boutique.

Shopkeeper: Oh yes, the Norwegian Blue. What's wrong with it?

Praline: I'll tell you what's wrong with it. It's dead, that's what's wrong with it.

Shopkeeper: No, no it's resting, look!

Praline: Look my lad, I know a dead parrot when I see one and I'm looking at one right now.

Shopkeeper: No, no sir, it's not dead. It's resting.

Praline: Resting?

Shopkeeper: Yeah, remarkable bird the Norwegian Blue, beautiful plumage, innit?

Praline: The plumage don't enter into it -- it's stone dead.

Shopkeeper: No, no -- it's just resting.

Praline: All right then, if it's resting I'll wake it up. (shouts into cage) Hello Polly! I've got a nice cuttlefish for you when you wake up, Polly Parrot!

Shopkeeper: (jogging cage) There it moved.

Praline: No he didn't. That was you pushing the cage.

Shopkeeper: I did not.

Praline: Yes, you did. (takes parrot out of cage, shouts) Hello Polly, Polly (bangs it against counter) Polly Parrot, wake up. Polly. (throws it in the air and lets it fall to the floor) Now that's what I call a dead parrot.

Shopkeeper: No, no it's stunned.

Praline: Look my lad, I've had just about enough of this. That parrot is definitely deceased. And when I bought it not half an hour ago, you assured me that its lack of movement was due to it being tired and shagged out after a long squawk.

Shopkeeper: It's probably pining for the fjords.

Praline: Pining for the fjords, what kind of talk is that? Look, why did it fall flat on its back the moment I got it home?

Shopkeeper: The Norwegian Blue prefers kipping on its back. Beautiful bird, lovely plumage.

Praline: Look, I took the liberty of examining that parrot, and I discovered that the only reason that it had been sitting on its perch in the first place was that it had been nailed there.

Shopkeeper: Well of course it was nailed there. Otherwise it would muscle up to those bars and voom.

Praline: Look matey (picks up parrot) this parrot wouldn't voom if I put four thousand volts through it. It's bleeding demised.

Shopkeeper: It's not, it's pining.

Praline: It's not pining, it's passed on. This parrot is no more. It has ceased to be. It's expired and gone to meet its maker. This is a late parrot. It's a stiff. Bereft of life, it rests in peace. If you hadn't nailed it to the perch, it would be pushing up the daisies. It's rung down the curtain and joined the choir invisible. This is an ex-parrot.

Shopkeeper: Well, I'd better replace it then.

Praline: (to camera) If you want to get anything done in this country you've got to complain till you're blue in the mouth.

Shopkeeper: Sorry guv, we're right out of parrots.

Praline: I see. I see. I get the picture.

Shopkeeper: I've got a slug.

Praline: Does it talk?

Shopkeeper: Not really, no.

Praline: Well, it's scarcely a replacement, then is it?

Waakie!

Waaakie!

eep! my thread's been jacked! parrot-head, you sir, are not!

/cackle

I don't know

I don't know


I don't know where Imma gonna go when the volcano blows

don't wanna go to no ta-ree mile island,
don't wanna see my skin a-glow.

(i live like minutes from three mile island!)

/cackle