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- Xref: sparky alt.non.sequitur:869 talk.bizarre:43076
- Newsgroups: alt.non.sequitur,talk.bizarre
- Path: sparky!uunet!munnari.oz.au!spool.mu.edu!umn.edu!csus.edu!netcom.com!gooley
- From: gooley@netcom.com (Mark. Gooley)
- Subject: horticulture sang at dawn, covered with moist detergent
- Message-ID: <1992Dec29.163349.19330@netcom.com>
- Followup-To: alt.fan.gooley,alt.pets.chia
- Organization: The Gorilla-Shaped Cookie Trust, GmbH
- Date: Tue, 29 Dec 1992 16:33:49 GMT
- Lines: 34
-
- She looked exactly like the wife I wanted to have when I was fifty:
- long, thick gray hair, a cute face, plump buttocks and breasts of good shape.
- I complimented her on her looks and told her that she looked exactly like the
- wife I wanted to have when I was fifty.
- She smiled. She had a lovely smile. "I *am* the wife you'll have
- when you're fifty," she said in a throaty alto that I found strangely arousing.
- "I've travelled back in time to ensure that you'll marry the young me."
- "How sweet of you," I said, and we kissed. She knew just how to
- kiss me, which was hardly surprising, given that she had been my wife for
- eighteen years. I started to unbutton her blouse, but she drew back and her
- pistol, and told me to save my enthusiasm for her younger self.
- By flapping our arms we flew to a small town near Seattle, landing
- in front of a small apartment building of small apartments. We went inside
- and she led me to the door of an apartment. She knocked, and presently the
- door opened and I saw a twenty-five-ish version of her, jet-black hair down
- to her shoulders and shot with white. "He's disappointing," said the younger
- version, looking at me critically.
- "We've been happily married for eighteen years," said the older.
- "Oh, I guess I can take your word for it," the younger one said to
- her, and invited me in. Within three months we were married.
- But all that has nothing to do with the secret mission I had during
- the Tonga crisis. Cunningly disguised by the Cunning Disguises Division as
- a photograph of Christie Brinkley at age seven, I hid in the bottom of one
- of the Governor-General's filing cabinets for seventeen months and achieved
- absolutely nothing. Back at Langley I was debriefed, declawed, declined,
- delivered, and debunked. I spent twelve hours a day riding the city buses
- in Baltimore, telling the bus drivers privately that I was a sociologist
- and fish-strangler, and this seemed to satisfy them but not the Sri Lankan
- agents who tailed me. Three months of this made a new man of me: he was
- six inches shorter, named Jimbo MacNostril Garrick, and smoked oak leaves
- and marihuana rolled in pieces of the _Baltimore Sun_.
-
- Mark.
- gooley@netcom.com
-