The true meaning of …

The day you lose all your faculties will be the day I use a plastic fork to slowly remove your eyeballs from their sockets. I’ll keep them in a small jewel box, thoughtfully lined with deep purple velvet. That will be the point at which I’ll know that we’re finally ready to grow old and die together. I may shed a few tears of joy.

As I look at you now, I can already see from the tell-tale expression on your face that you are eternally glad that we love each other in the way we do. That’s good, because other people simply refuse to understand the variety of truly special ways in which our minds work. More fool them, say I.

Would you like to hide away with me forever? Please?

Comments: 8

    shall we run away to the circus?

    andre | 12.13.06, 01:27

    Be careful, he’s asking everyone.

    Tickle | 12.13.06, 12:03

    oh …

    andre | 12.13.06, 12:15

    bugger…

    andre | 12.13.06, 12:20

    Wouldn’t a sport me more appropriate for your purpose? Combining at it does the stabby action of a fork with the scoopy properties of a spoon?

    Jack | 12.13.06, 13:02

    That should of course have read ‘spork’.

    Sport has no purpose whatsoever.

    Jack | 12.13.06, 13:03

    What on earth is going on in my comments? I am both foncused and confused. And probably concussed.

    I am not running away to the circus with anyone. Since my passionate affair with the Indian Rubber Woman, I’ve gone off circuses. And bread.

    Jack, I am so glad you corrected yourself. For one horrible moment, I thought you were suggesting that I should take up a sport. Even if it was a sport involving the gouging of eyes - it would still be a sport, for heaven’s sake.

    And if that happened, I’d start wearing shell suits and eating out at branches of Chicken Cottage. Which would never do.

    An Unreliable Witness | 12.13.06, 13:12

    you should enter a few ‘spooning’ competitions?

    andre | 12.13.06, 13:55

Leave a comment