has been long neglected. He’s quietly feeding, growing strong, thinking, writing a scholarly article for The Journal of Ireproducable Results. It’ll be dedicated on the frontispiece he says: Canada. Virgin turf. Wide open. Where he can be free. To sit on fences in all their forms.
He left a note in the bag for me today. I think it is a warm-up, a sign of confidence that more is within me, more to be learned: RECTUM? It’ll almost KILLED him!
HA! That sly Timmy! Never and always feeding! Canada is right for him! 3 months ago
He’s an eavesdropper of the first order. One hint of parasite and he’s all ears, in his limited earless way.
Ratty said “Somebody told me they don’t eat cod because of cod worms.”
“What? But I love cod!”
The the search was on. Cod. White fish. Sword fish. Salmon. They ALL get parasites. The internet is LOADED with images and stories of worms falling out of raw fish, being discovered in cooked fish, on and on. YCHHhhhhhhh
Turns out worms are as prevalent ast garden insects on salads, and no more or less dangerous if the food id properly prepared. Better to look at your fish before you cook it and don’t even get me started on the amount of insect is allowed into our flour.
Show’s over Timmy. Move along now. Nothing to see here. 13 months ago
Lotta Mexican lately. Thank you!
I spoke in his retreat: New Mexican, fellow traveller. Say it right. You are welcome.2 years ago
deep into the workings with a tool box, flash light, and decoder ring.
He came back later in a ball cap and laughed. “Nothin’ too much sleep won’t fix!”
Then he peeled off my sweat-soaked tee-shirt, blew the colostomy bag up and twisted it into the shape of a leaping Rat Terrier, one with one ear that folds forward in the shape of a grin halfway up, and showed me the dawn of a new post-apocalypso day.
Thanks Timmy!2 years ago