I am a smasher of fragile things. A dasher of icicles. A stomper of frozen puddles. I yell into the dawn and, perhaps worst of all, I lob rocks into quiet ponds. I confess it. I am a smasher of fragile things. I should not be left alone with old flourescent bulbs, rotten produce, or eggs. Give me a melon and a baseball bat and I will give you a smile.
Is it wrong? Tell me, is it wrong to be a smasher of fragile things?
Saturday, June 18, 2011
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7 comments:
The light bulb on the door step was a bit much.
Hahaha! That one was an accident. It does look kind of suspicious in light of this post. Although accidental, (I swear) that did serve as the inspiration for this post.
Sherry. . .he does all of his smashing down back of the Fairway Market!
Mom! You did not raise me up to be the sort of scofflaw who engages in acts of vandalism and mischief behind Fairway. Have a little more confidence in your parenting!
Janie, that made me laugh in a very 'GOTCHA" sort of way, based on the last post Josh wrote.
Are you a ne'er-do-well in disguise, Josh Tate?
Is it only a guy trait? I would say its one of those things that cannot be resisted by a real man...
Could be, anonymous. Ladies?
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