A Morning of Incongruity

The Cadillac like gleaming of an ivory-trimmed baby blue moped, perhaps a Vespa, straddled by the vapid beauty of a sunshaded platinum blonde, with a whisker-choked chrome-topped old man who might be dirty riding bitch.

The sky’s furnace blasts a lumpy figure, bristlefatfaced and greensweatpanted, who singlehandedly manhandles a lawnmower through highchoked grass while holding a dainty bichon frise in his other hand.

A pack of cigarettes in a jogger’s hand, menthol lights.

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3 responses to “A Morning of Incongruity

  1. Always beware the sunshaded platinum blonde — not so much for her sunshadedness, but more for her highlightdamagedroots traveling to her PeopleMagazinefried mind, likely leading to a crash that cannot be cushioned even by her silicone-laden air bags.

  2. One tends to underestimate the quintessential valley girl and her air bags: there is not enough substance for such a girl to caroom into a smear on asphalt. She’ll probably float like a platinum butterfly and sting like a bee on the legal battle that comes after

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