Today didn't last forever; it didn't even last all day.
At just gone 3pm, as I was out front pruning and watering the plants, I discovered that my sole baby tomato was gone. At first I thought I was imagining things, then that I must be mistaken, and finally that it was a joke. When I found it busted open and stamped into the ground it may just as well have been my heart. I could do nothing other than close my eyes and mourn my latest broken dream.
Unless Marlowe had fancied a bolognese sauce to go along with his afternoon rump steak then my suspicions lay elsewhere. Suspect no.1 was a freshly spited 17 year old postboy - a kid with a very limited future.
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Tristram's Birthday: Sunday 3rd October

Cheap jam sponge or something a little more exciting? How will Mr Spencer celebrate his 32nd year in hell?
Trolley Dash August 2010

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Scrap metal or has John been 'tagged'. Is Tristram Spencer really the only fated man in town?
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Is there still some hope for the fated Mr Spencer?
Squashed tomato
ReplyDeletepips and peel
Scrunch it down
and hear it squeal
Squashed tomato
got no roots
stamped to fuck
under ruthless boots
hee hee, butt seriously, though ya won't beleave me. Knot gilty yer 'onah!
Mwaaahhhh. XXX
I hope the tomato splashed up your leg and aggravates your acne Brian
ReplyDelete