PICNIC AT HANGING ROCK
Muddle through this with me will you?
All those distended cattle have brand marks
on their faces - what's the deal with that?
I can't imagine that not hurting, and where's
the cowboy who did that to them? Like to
give his ass a taste of his own medicine :
a feel of testicles in a vice, speaking of
distended - something he'd remember
nice. As it is, my girlfriend says I have
tomorrow off and there's this picnic we'll
be at. Checker tournament and real plaid
tablecloths. Every moth and ant in the world,
I've already been told, will be there for me.
I cannot wait - I'll make a list of all the
things I expect to do : can't sit, can't drink,
won't eat, won't think. How's that; well, it's
an anti-list anyway, Marianna. It's the
only kind you'll get from me.
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