The sommelier for the Ramos Bros., Appestat Curvier, knew the man in the hat and the harridan, having met them in the basement of the Church of the Impetuous Sinner in 1978, both parties, the man in the hat and the harridan having arriving together, and as such constituting a party, and Appestat Curvier, who was there on behalf of the Ramos Bros., makers of rare cork wine, sharing a fondness for dories and Pop-siècle. ‘…if there’s one thing I can’t stand its that…’ said the harridan pointing at a man walking a dog, the dog yanking toothsomely on the owners pant leg. ‘…quite the spectacle…’ said the man in the hat, ‘…toothsome…’ added the harridan, the dog yanking and tugging.
The Nova Bana sommeliers and the Nitra Parow sommeliers are in cahoots with the Western Cape sommeliers who are in cahoots with the Estoril Lisboa sommeliers, a sommeliers’ couturier. Appestat Curvier, sommelier for the Ramos Bros., purveyors of rare cork vins, claims to know the whereabouts of a couturier of whores’ gloves, the whereabouts somewhere one would be least inclined to ferret.
He could recall a time when the blue sky wasn’t blue above his head, flapping like a blue sheet on his grandmamma’s clothesline, there above his head where he last saw it the day before. The day before yesterday, the sky exactly where it was the day before the day before yesterday, he wrote a letter to Elisa Oyj, a seamstress for the Vincennes Glove and Scarf Company with whom he was keeping an ongoing correspondence. ‘My dearest Elisa, the sky was blue yesterday, bluer than dahlias and butterfly wings, so blue one can’t distinguish it from the bluest sea or the bluest ocean’. To which Elisa Oyj replied, ‘Go fuck yourself you smarmy cunt!’
‘Sounds are impostures’ read the sign over the Masons’ door. ‘Please remove your wetgoods before entering’. The South Ossetia Bros. came by way of there. With them they brought a haberdashery of men’s and women’s clothing piled waist-high in their rickety oxcart, the oxen snorting and hoofing the dirt. The South Ossetia Bros. arrived the day before the Feast of the Great Annunciation, a nonsectarian feast held in the basement of the Church of the Impetuous Fool under the auspice of the Feast of the Lamb, which is held every year under the auspice of the Feast of Saint Impious, so named in honor of the Feast of the Impetuous Fool, the feast to end all feasts.
The Nova Bana sommeliers and the Nitra Parow sommeliers are in cahoots with the Western Cape sommeliers who are in cahoots with the Estoril Lisboa sommeliers, a sommeliers’ couturier. Appestat Curvier, sommelier for the Ramos Bros., purveyors of rare cork vins, claims to know the whereabouts of a couturier of whores’ gloves, the whereabouts somewhere one would be least inclined to ferret.
He could recall a time when the blue sky wasn’t blue above his head, flapping like a blue sheet on his grandmamma’s clothesline, there above his head where he last saw it the day before. The day before yesterday, the sky exactly where it was the day before the day before yesterday, he wrote a letter to Elisa Oyj, a seamstress for the Vincennes Glove and Scarf Company with whom he was keeping an ongoing correspondence. ‘My dearest Elisa, the sky was blue yesterday, bluer than dahlias and butterfly wings, so blue one can’t distinguish it from the bluest sea or the bluest ocean’. To which Elisa Oyj replied, ‘Go fuck yourself you smarmy cunt!’
‘Sounds are impostures’ read the sign over the Masons’ door. ‘Please remove your wetgoods before entering’. The South Ossetia Bros. came by way of there. With them they brought a haberdashery of men’s and women’s clothing piled waist-high in their rickety oxcart, the oxen snorting and hoofing the dirt. The South Ossetia Bros. arrived the day before the Feast of the Great Annunciation, a nonsectarian feast held in the basement of the Church of the Impetuous Fool under the auspice of the Feast of the Lamb, which is held every year under the auspice of the Feast of Saint Impious, so named in honor of the Feast of the Impetuous Fool, the feast to end all feasts.
No comments:
Post a Comment