Dear Coz,
Without preamble:
22 ottobre--I find on the front porch a Black Cat, just run over, her left arm broken through and dangling;
25 ottobre--in bottom of coffee cup, a man having assumed the position;
26 ottobre--in bottom of coffee cup, headless and armless female torso;
26 ottobre--tea bag ruptured, on rim of cup, the Grim;
27 ottobre--on walk to stables, the Grim, eyes glaring like hot coals in the Sun, appears in 100plus pounds of ravening blackness on the edge of the maize field; that evening, Blood on the Moon;
29 ottobre--in bottom of cup, tombstone with a Bird engraved thereon; on rim of cup, a Cat, its kidneys being devoured by a Dog, its head by something more monstrous than the Grim itself;
30 ottobre--nightmare of the Tyrannosaurus Rex poking its nose in through the window under which I’m hiding;
31 ottobre--a Skull in the bottom of my cup, Sandy identified it without prompting, it was smoking a cigar.
My question to you, my clairvoyant Cousin, is this: do you see a pattern here?
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O Lordy, it’s just a Three Stooges blowout, "Moe, I’m haunted!"
Happy Hallowe’en!
Allegro Ognisanti!
Buenos Dias de los Muertos! (Whose bright idea was it to hold elections on the Day of the Dead?)
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What me, worry?
For I have me an orange and aniseseed flavoured chico muerto from the Sri Lankan Mexican Patisserie, gobble gobble gobble . . . .
Your Cousin, Giac.
3 commenti:
Well, given the death imagery, and the theme of Death in specific amongst other divinatory devices, I'd say you're seeing the election. For you see, death is not deading but a change. A massive change. I take great comfort in your Grims and Rexes. Looks like we're getting rid of the incumbant prince. Maybe the T-Rex is just a really big donkey...
Thanks, Coz. I'll bring the chico pan de los muertos by Sunday for you to ritually sacrifice. At 7p.m. the Italian news service reports "un leggero vantaggio" for Kerry in the exit polls.
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