Shoo fly, don't you bother me. I am here playing a sad melody on the piano and wondering where the hell can he be tonight. Talk about a jagged love affair. Shit. It seems as if I might as well have an affair with the fly. "Hey fly, come on back." Ah, I do delight myself when I need to.
I smell something burning in the kitchen and it smells charred and black. I guess I'll contemplate that while I take a hit of this wine. Oh fuck it., I'm going to polish off this bottle of wine.
I told him earlier tonight that crossing his fingers doesn't count when it comes to lying to me. I said, "You can fool yourself, but I don't want to be fooled no more."
Looks like smoke pouring out of the oven door. Now I know what's burning in the kitchen. It's that big old hunk of swine I threw in the roaster. "That's your dinner honey." I think I'll let it cook awhile more.

Peace. Rustic, loving all the stories in this thread. What a mix of talented people.