aaaaaaa

Dad:
Yeah when I put those so­das in the fridge they were like out­side hot as hell tem­per­a­tures. So of course they’re not cold yet. But they’re try­ing.

Me:
It’s like the lit­tle en­gine that could.

Dad:
Sure.

Me:
Ex­cept they don’t think they can, they know they’re cans AAAAAAA.

Dad:
AAAAAAA.

Me:
AAAAA.

Dad:
Be care­ful that lev­el of pun will get you canned AAAAA.

Me:
AAAAAAA (mine was bet­ter but) AAAAAA.
 
 

—mel­ony ppenosyne

Flom­mist Mel­ony Ppenosyne is a writer and weird artist type. In the last year alone, she’s trav­eled to Vir­ginia as a com­pet­ing poet, co-writ­ten a play on men­tal ill­ness that is present­ly be­ing pro­duced, and craft­ed a pub­lished es­say check­ing the priv­i­lege and scope of art gal­leries. Copy­right © 2017 Mel­ony Ppenosyne.

MOR D’ARTÍCULOS  MOR FLOMM !

READ SOME  RELATED  DER TUNG  POSTS  :

the most claus­tro­pho­bic way melan­cho­lia mod­erne ‘are you on drugs?’ drag­o­nista ad­vent of the devi pup­py chuck whiny white toes