Winston's feeling spicy

Howdy folks,

Winston here and I'M STILL NOT DEAD (don't tell Ruth).

Myron and I have decided to run away together. Ruth and Shinshina have been driving us bonkers lately, with their violas and vacuum cleaning. We've been on the road for exactly 3.1hours and 18 miles. Myron has to stop every half-hour to pee, so we haven't gotten very far. That may be a good thing since we still don't know where we're going. Myron wants to see California, but that's too flamboyant for my standards. I want to go feed ducks. Doesn't really matter where.

It's been fifteen minutes since Myron's nature called. I hope he didn't die. He has the car keys.

I didn't want Ruth to notice I left, so I've only brought the essentials: the duck cane, some whiskey, and some butterscotches. So far I've drunk 3/4 of the whiskey and eaten all my butterscotches. The duck drank the rest. Myron brought cash and what looks like a hammer-and-sickle flag. He likes red, he said. It's absurdly quiet right now. No viola, no vacuum, not even a - MYRON GET YOUR ASS BACK IN THE CAR!

Sorry folks, that's it for today. I have to go deal with something.

Love and hate from the west,



WINSTON MICERTON

Poetry by Winston

Once upon a time...

A witch fell into a well.

And as she fell

She remembered a spell

A special spell

That served her well

Whilst falling down the well.

Babadi-Babadoo-Jung-F-u

And dobadido dabandeet.

She levitated right through

Back up the well

And onto the street.

Life in the time of COVID

Howdy folks,

Winston here. It has come to my attention that we are amidst another plague. Wonderful.

No one seems to have caughtin' it in my neck of the woods, but Ruth insists on its existence. She can be a real nag when it comes to global crises. Apparently us elders are supposedly "high risk." Bah humbug! Of all the teenage gangsters and pestering girl scouts, this virus has decided to target the underserving!

Speaking of those girl scouts, they've been acting differently lately. Every day or so one of those orange and brown idiots scurries on to my front porch to offer their "services." Now, back in my day these so called "services" would be frowned upon but it seems like the term has changed over time. They basically offered to buy groceries and get the mail for me- as if I'd trust them with either of those. I don't know exactly what those punks are up to, but it certainly isn't from the goodness of their heart.

Life hasn't changed much for the two of us lately. I still go out on my rocking chair and listen to the birds. Ruth still nags. The only thing that's changed for us is our nights. Usually we go to the opera with Myron and Shinshina during the evening, but that of course has gone to hell. Ruth still meets up with Shinshina for their "power walks" though, whereas Myron and I just drink whiskey by the tributary. Just the other day I was heading out when these eggs started hatching. Ever since these yellow pests have been following me around all day long.

Before I leave, a word on this toilet paper disaster. Just don't use it! These Americans love shitting into clean water and wiping their ass with tree tissue. Then they expect you to pay for their  conservation charities to "save the trees" and "protect natural resources." How about you just shit in the woods like every other damn animal? You can wipe with the grass, thick sticks, socks, washable cloth, or a little water if you have to.

Nature's calling,

Winston Micerton