jambalaya,,, , , , my left leg is an incinerator. Surprise?

the music star known only as "Beck" lives next door to me. he moved in the other week, and my life has gotten more interesting as a result, to say the least.

but to go on, i will mention that egg beaters continue to seep in through the air ducts, and the tear ducts, and the laser gun shaped swimming pool.

dueteronomy told me something interesting will happen to me when i go to the park and sing a duet with a bird as a passing lark. the pun was unintended, barely comprehended, and actually made the back of my neck grow warm to the touch. not in a radiation sort of way, or in a radiator sort of way, but just a cool, numbing, soothing glow. my neck grew 8 feet taller and my legs sank into the dirt, where they were gnawed upon by the mole people. they spoke some sort of language that made my blood boil and turned my heart into a turn stile. come one, come all, it would say. which was funny because my skull was dispensing free baseball caps to anyone who is willing. it was a popular day, and probably the cause for the pop star to move in next door. i've never been too apt at making omelettes, and i can say with 95.8% certainty that neither was he. as the cells trickle down my spinal column, along the pentameter, the 8-sided stop sign, the 20-sided die living in my scrotum, it made my feet dance with a joy that is international, but of little note even in the funny papers.

anyone have a good oatmeal recipe?