Thursday, October 28, 2010

Tapeworm, Tapeworm Measuring The Junk Food

(Ke)  Well, I just ate a big plate of fries so the logical next move would be to immediately go to bed.   This gut isn't going to grown on its own.

(Kr)  I'm downing a pizza.

(Ke)  From?

(Kr)  Trader Joe's.  My client said your baby is going to be a metal tiger, according to Chinese New Year stuff.  We are wood tigers.

(Ke)  That's why we're so good at golf.

(Kr)  And like sluts.  I mean, a whole pizza.  I have a tapeworm.  And he is a drunken cheese lover with a mother of a sweet tooth.

(Ke)  Sounds like someone else I know.  Love you, Kreets.  Night night.

(Kr)  Love you.  That was from the tapeworm, but, I love you, too.

(Ke)  I feel like you're just phoning it in, but the tapeworm really meant it.

(Kr)  We love you equally.  Just as we do pizza . . . and chocolate .  . . and wine.

(Ke)  It's gonna take a lot of proof.

(Kr)  And wontons . .  . and anything else edible.

(Ke)  I get where I stand.

(Kr)  I'm not even sure where I stand in this whole thing.  I might need an exorcism.  And definitely an exercise-ism.

(Ke)  Just put him in a jar and call him a pet.  You can foster more, too.

(Kr)  A jar takes up too much room.  He can stay in my gut then I have a travel buddy.

(Ke)  Good point.  Now I really go night night.

(Kr)  Good night.  Now I really eat chocolate.

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