Thank You for Asking


Paul Bunyan, Joseph Cornell and Dwight Yoakam were eating spaghetti from a
seasoned plank of Hawaiian koa when the local buffalo recovery squad began reciting.
They were far too derivative and the leader’s skirt was stained a suspiciously bright pink.
Yes, there were several small intestinal elevators available. Thank you for asking.
Barbed mice had been strung along the spaghetti’s perimeter for greater safety and
protection from the elements. Reports of blue oxen in boxes with a wide variety of nasal
twangs had been reluctantly discounted.
The small elevators were larger than the small elevators previously employed.
The toasted oxhorn aphrodisiacs were a hoax. So were the autographed
interruptions. Tammy Wynette was no longer gesticulating in sadly torrential patterns
among the poodle skirts at Babe’s Wisconsin Burger Bar.
Yes, enough room for six toes in the mood boots. Thank you for asking.
Dwight’s spaghetti chin was not considered safely enshrined. The buffalo squad
was tiring. The buffalo squad considered departing with the outmoded portion of the
Hawaiians. The buffalo squad was still too derivative. It couldn’t have helped their
personal relationships any.
And whether or not Joseph’s disturbing thought box remained inside the elevator,
at what rate do such boxes depart from the considerations of sympathetic rising and
Shoes for the famous. Shoes for the small. Shoes for the dallymouse who lives in the
wall. Thank you for asking.
A story of delightful and confusing replenishment of motion. But is it the one you
placed between the necessary available moments or is it the one still ascending?
We got there by accepting the relativity of isolationism. Does this mean we’re not
responsible? Should Dwight’s spaghetti chin be accepted without constant revision?
You see, the “smaller” elevator was actually larger than the smallest of the two
larger elevators, but no one seemed to notice. It remained unnecessary to entertain such
notions. Nevertheless, the popularity of the intestinal owners upon which they operated
increased, both historically and sheltered in the contemporary peripheries of the other two
intestinally elevated components of the spaghetti fest, despite the isolationism.
Many such outmoded Hawaiians have returned for retraining and some have
completed advanced coursework in culinary elevation. This was to be expected
considering their limited landmass and propensity for fireworks. Less predictable has
been the extinction of the blue oxen boxes, once found in nearly every country and
western bar in Hawaii.
Yes, transparent poodle skirts and cottonball clouds. Thank you for asking.

Rich Ives is the author of Tunneling to the Moon: A Psychological Gardener’s Book of Days currently being published in serial @ Silenced Press everyday in 2014 and forthcoming in paperback. Begin from the beginning, catch up, read daily. Just refer to the Burrow Guide.