Diminutive Short Stories #7

In the best dream of Britney Spears I call her boyfriend Jesus, tell him why I love Mozart and that I'm not intimidated by his athleticism. Also apologized to her for some things I said about K-fed. Cute kids.

Dreams of Jesse wearing my letterman jacket are at a house my mom owned next to Magic Mountain where we drove up to a bumpin party under sherbet orange night light.

Dreams of Mike Huckabee for President are long, on a light rail and have the slogan; "America was 100 to 1. Time to Make it Again." But before I could tell him how it relates to my thesis or pull up the poster on Facebook we came to the terminus at 现代城 where I bought Jesse hot dogs and I was too sad to speak.

My name is Earl, is true for a lot of people. That show did more for Buddhism than the Dali Lama and all his bullshit ever did.

I'd burn a monk to see Jamie Presley strip. Full nude.

"You can look behind you if you bend over."

"I know. Nice to see you."

"I wrote Futurama, July, 1967."
Johnny Cash

Editorial #27:

Ya’ll dumb.

"Jiang Zemen is a nice guy. I wrote a letter for my mother in case I didn't come back from China. I'd like to show it to him."
Clifton Barnhart

Ashes on sea water.

I added the word black to my anagram. Cause it is.