I was hanging out in the pawnshop yesterday, just to see what they had going on and what kinds of neat shit people might have parted with for some extra drug money. They sure did have a lot of guns on display- sick stuff, even for me. But they also had some neat things, like weed whackers (which I hear don't even have any weed in them... rip off) and some musical instruments. When I saw that cute little flute hanging on the wall, I get this funny feeling deep in my bowels- love at first blow.
So I paid the guy what he wanted, and took my new flute home with me, thinking about how much fun we would have together. There's just something special and magical about a girl and her flute, you know? I had read about this French guy who used to fart into a horn he had specially made, and how much he had dazzled audiences. At heart, I feel the pull of the stage, too. But first I have to practice!
I stuck my flute into mah poopy hole and gave it all I had... and no sound came out. Hmm, that usually works. Then I remembered that you have to lick the reed. Silly me. So I stuck him back in there, and my pretty poopies came out of the little holes with a beautiful squishing sound. All I need now is a little practice and some accompaniment (maybe my autistic Brother Willie on his autismophone and Ethan on his accordian), and we can take this act on the road.
1 comment:
My gay sun plays the homophone.
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