From my work in progress:
“The coffee tasted like someone had stubbed out a cigarette butt in a smoldering electrical fire. “

Writes all the things. Most of the things never write back.
From my work in progress:
“The coffee tasted like someone had stubbed out a cigarette butt in a smoldering electrical fire. “
Hmmm. On the Weather Channel, they just said they “would be watching this storm with a fine toothed comb.”
Huh?
I’ve been working on a story, and came up with the perfect title earlier. I was driving, and didn’t write it down, and couldn’t remember it later when I COULD write it down.
Since then I’ve brought it back to mind three times and forgotten it twice. THIS TIME I WROTE IT DOWN. HA!
I’m looking at the ads in the Sunday newspaper, and a local furniture and appliance store is selling camo refrigerators and camo freezers. Camo, as in a mossy oak pattern.
I’m thinking, a better camo pattern for the freezer in my garage would be Stacked Cardboard Boxes; maybe with a strategic cobweb here and there.
I am working on a new game show concept called NAME THAT STAIN, in which the contestants are shown a stain and have to guess whether it was something tracked in, spilled, or something produced by the pets.
In the final round, the contestant is blindfolded, walked barefoot across a carpet, and asked to identify a stain by touch and smell alone.
“Hope is the thing that floats,” he said.
“Hope is the thing with feathers,” she replied.
“So, hope is a duck, then.”
“Duck. Goose. Swan. Whatever.”
I propose we change the name of the eleventh month from November to Black Friday, since Black Friday seems to have started on November 1.
The world is my oyster, but I’m having trouble finding enough cocktail sauce.
It’s low-hanging fruit, person on TV, not low-lying fruit.
I wonder if there is a wolf version of Duran Duran that sings “Hungry Like the Human”?