The Lizard Bird
Hey, you ever get the feeling you're being watched but when you whirl around, nothing's there. But then out of the corner of your eye you see a scaly, feathered tail slip behind the couch and you realize that goddamn Lizard Bird is probably back again?
Yeah, me too.
I'm not entirely certain what that goddamn Lizard Bird wants. (I mean, other than to eat my soul of course.)
That goddamn Lizard Bird is welcome to my soul. It's already poisoned. I have a poisoned soul. Having a poisoned soul is very dark and mysterious and also sexy.
This one time, I could have had the antidote to a poisoned soul. Her name was Sally and she was prepared to love me forever. Sally's dead now though. She beat herself to death against the granite cliffs of my compassion.
I am a triumph of stoic savagery.
I deserve to be killed by lizard birds.
I'm getting what I deserve.
posted by Latigo Flint @ 12:18 AM
10 comments
10 Comments:
I am the sea and will never die beating against your granite cliffs, I'll beat an underground tunnel to the secret inner lagoon where the gentle waters lap cold and unseen
Don't be too hard on yourself, Latigo Flint. Nobody deserves that except Geraldo Rivera.
Why don't you buy yourself a pellet gun and show that Geiko Lizard Bird who's the boss -- and I ain't talking about Tony Danza.
Come to think of it, he deserved the same as Geraldo.
The thing about lirard birds is that they bite your soul, then wait for the bacterial infection present in their mouth to graduall rot it apart over the next 24 hours. They have no problem eating rotten soul, so poisoned might not phase them either.
Don't seek an antidote for your poisoned soul, Latigo Flint. There is nobody more boring at parties than a reformed poisonous soul banging on about how much purer thay feel and the folly of all the other party-goers for failing to "wake up, people!" Remaining bitter will make you a much jollier party guest.
Please let me know when it starts to eat your face off. I want to watch.
Ok, it is decidely unfair to make me all giggly just by reading the title. That's not even working for it, is it?
I see my abomination of nature has found you at last Latigo.
The funny thing about lizard birds is that they are amazing trackers of smell, they can track down squinty-eyed gunslingers from the smallest shard of a shirt that was so feverishly removed and threw at teen singing sensation Hilary Duff last weekend, yes that was me watching from the wings, hastily clearing the stage after the concert...
Of course the other funny thing about lizard birds is that they only eat the souls of cheating men, and seeing as I have now identified Toby as the culprit of my misfortune I feel so bad about so hastily blaming and getting revenge on you Latigo.
Please forgive me, and I pray that you're soul is not a cheating soul, for if it is there is little anyone can do for you now, poisened soul or not.
Yeah, I got one of those Lizard Birds too. It lives in the grapefruit tree in my living room, where I do most of my living. It's favorite thing to do is shake the leaves during critical moments of 24.
I hate that Lizard Bird.
No one really deserves to be killed by lizard birds. Piranas or speeding buses maybe, but not lizard birds.
Oooh Helga Von Porno. That sounds positively romantic and naughty. I think I crumbled just a bit.
Lizard Birds are much too crafty to be dispatched with a pellet gun LBB. Your only chance is with a howitzer and prayer, and even that is dicey.
Lizard Birds have much in common with Komodo Dragons Trevor Record--this is very true. But they're also so much worse than Komodo Dragons... mostly because they can fly.
Indeed Sam, Problem Child Bride. But the truth is I've become so bitter that I don't even attend parties--the true proof of a poisoned soul.
Oh god Faceless Henchwoman. I just NC Seventeened all over my keyboard. If it shorts out I'm billing you for a new one.
Yeah Old Hoss, you like to watch, don't you?
Savagery isn't fair Ari.
I understood very little of what you said Mr. Winston (or whomever of 12 Crumble Ave has the computer tonight). I know this much, Hillary Duff and I belong together. It's written in the stars.
Elegantly said Monkeypotpie.
(Every moment is critical. And the Sutherlands know it better than most.)
Hey Randommoments... Deserve's got nothing to do with it!
(Oh thank goodness--if I go too long without an opportunity to say that I get all twitchy and weird inside.)
I love you Talulah Trashbag. I frequently have to go away in the big, white van over you.
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