The red chair.
All those are there.
The vines out the window.
The chickens, the piano.
All the chickens- the big chickens and the baby chickens.
Nothing, they’re not relatives. Where are the chickens? In Mexico. On the front porch. Everything is caddy wampus, I think the chickens were in the house, and she shooed them out: she looks mad. If my pants were that tights, I’d be mad.
What’d the piano do?
It plays. The piano plays.
Do you play piano? I play the piano.
The yellow shirt. He’s a fat bellied guy. Mexi-cali rose. Who knows someone who ran down the street, it sure as hell is. Who is it? I don’t know. It’s me, Joe Tirrell- T.I.R.R.E.LL. I was on a tour taking a couple of girls. Well look at me, and look at the picture, nothing like it. Hat, shirt, blue pants, and a bunch of hens. Have you seen him around? I am the guy you see. It’s a bunch of hens ain’t never invited to our house. *Points* Chigachack! We are still trying to identify and so far our progress is zero- strawberries are good. *Laughing* When did it happen? I have no idea. The kids, not the men, the kids were messing around, better think where they’re coming in through all over. I don’t think there’s a story. The nice part about these games- someone can join in with good ideas. They’d love this in Boston, write the Boston Globe. He’s the answer to this old story, they loved this. If you put this in there, my god you’ll have a good story!