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Monthly Archives: January 2018

ALAS, IN WANDERLAND, SEA CZAR CITY, VOL. 6, PAGE 13

As I read Justa Fortune’s tale of wretched success, I pondered the stories (minus the 13th floor) that went into the Legend Of The Lost Lunchman”s Mind.

How so little is known about Hudson Day,

Except that after finishing his lamb jam sand witch, he made the myth take of asking a hard of herring fisherman, the way to the dessert.

They say it was the setting off through the sand that sealed his dune.

He was seen, off and yawn, with his horse, Whisper and his mule. Pumps, pulling the Rover Tale Wagon and babbling like a book: “Ample pie, please cake, oakmeal cookies.”

MICHAELLEWISART

HUDSON DAY, THE LOST LUNCHMAN

 
 

ALAS, IN WANDERLAND, SEA CZR CITY, VOL.6, PAGE 12

When I walked through Banter’s door, there was the newly wetted Lee Z. Gladstone saying: “She was only a mail carrier’s daughter but oh how she could play Post Office.

She was just one of those sorts.”

” Cut short your trip to Viagra Falls, Lee Z.?” I asked.

“I don’t let any grass grow under my sheets, Dumbclue.”

“Hey P.I.” Banter asked, “did you see your granddamn landed on the cover of Vague Magazine?”

Sure enough there it was, :” JUSTA HATRACK, FORMER MONKBOY PLAYDATE AND NIGHTSTAND NURSE, NOW CEREAL BOX GIVEAWAY HEIRESS TELLS ALL, FROM PIX TO TRIX, TO OUR FANNY MAY HERT”

michaellewisart

HOT OFF THE PRESSES

 
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Posted by on January 23, 2018 in storybook for punloving adults

 

ALAS, IN WANDERLAND, SEA CZAR CITY, VOL.6, PAGE 11

This morning my bookie, Simon Scriptner, came by my room, 2B or knock 2B, at the Harbour House to drop off my winnings from the running of last week’s Upsand Downs.

Jackie Odds and his racetrack trout, had proved suspiciously accurate with their tip.

I’d put all my kale on Skullcap to come in by a head and he had.

So this time I took the trout’s advice again and laid some hay on Lotto Lucky to win, Memory Spark to place and Flash Me to show, at this week’s Meadows race.

I figured after I gave Usher Falls, my landlord, his two weeks back lent and my preceptionist, Helen Wheels, her owed pay, I’d still have enough to buy a round for the boys at Banter’s

michaellewisart

THE PAYOFF

 

 

 
 

ALAS, IN WANDERLAND, SEA CZAR CITY, VOL.6, PAGE 10

“Heaven is mad as Nell, she wont even speak to me”, Pete said the next morning.

“What do you expect, you’ve been ‘gone fishing’ since she was a fin.”

I drove him out to the Drasticvill Drive-In.

When we got out of the car, Heaven said: “Hey Sneaker, you’ve got something smelly stuck to your shoe.”

“Heaven, I’m your father”, Pete pleaded.

“My old man drown in a bottle when I was just a squirt.

What you are, is a ghost.”

michaellewisart

MUNCH IN SPECIALS

 
 
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