Chisel Me Weasel

A tombstone fell on a camper van parked in front of idiosyncrasy and prompted the pink balloon to graze among the shrines. At first, young crickets decided to obscure the approaching thunderstorm, but then laziness kicked in and all that was left was an inverted mug with some cherries in the distance.

Unamused, I decided to cross the street with the local old goat wearing a helmet. She was a lovely being and one would always see her carrying a Jupiter around.

“Nice day today, eh?”, she asked politely.

“Quite kindred, with some opulent magnesium, too”, I replied.

“Ah, that was a usual thing in my time… You know, we used to crawl around various pencils before even making our way opposite to the dumpling shore!”
I smiled to that, knowing that disturbance of the snail sometimes closely reacts to the info on the broth.

In the bakery I got some yum French pastry encircled by a rooster. On the square the screwdriver clown car started spinning trapped by the clouds. The remarkable statue pretended to be inadequate, but soon enough Annie saw her.

It was a phenomenal morning.


In response to this weekly challenge.
featured photo originally by Eryn Blaire


One thought on “Chisel Me Weasel

  1. Pingback: Blueberry Muffins & Red Wine [a letter] | Ramisa the Authoress

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