This is a double story and could be mistaken for something else...
A government spy dressed up as an ice man and who’d been delivering bags of ice to the same address for the last five years groaned and decided he didn’t like being a spy anymore. So he retired and became meteor-man to all his friends who lived in the ice factory and washed their faces with carbolic soap every night and ate glutinous stew to fill their boots.
This went on for a while of Sundays until one fine day his ticket came in and Nashville was calling. So grabbing his banjo and all he owned in a rucksack he sang for his supper every night on stage and became an instant hit and a hero to all his friends back home who all to a man took up playing the banjo and became known as the singing icemen but didn’t get further than the local bar where they went down a treat every Friday and Saturday nights.
For want of an ending to finish it this little bit of story died a death right here.
This next one is: STANDARD ISSUE
“I can see you in there.”
Am I not invisible anymore?
“You never were.”
At least my thoughts are mine.
“Your thoughts are the loudest, and the silence is the ocean they travel on.”
Are all the ripples but a question in doubt then?
“They are what make you or break you.”
I will hide then.
“And what do you hide in here?”
Don’t come in here, it’s private.
“But in here nothing belongs to you.”
Then I want to be gone from here.
“Now that you’re here you cannot leave.”
In that case break out the beer.
Image from Pixabay
