Here lies the body of Myron Clampet.
His tongue was on fire and he tried to stamp it.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Epitaphs XII
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Y'know that space? Under the stairs? Where nobody goes except maybe a small child who can squeeze through the gap between the steps and have an entire world to themselves full of shadows and fun and Ogden Nash poems, Charles Addams books, Gahan Wilson cartoons and peanut butter sandwiches? Yeah? You can? Great. If not, this is what it's like back there. Fun, a little shady (hence the mandatory black background) and packed with the essential vitamins and minerals a growing mind needs.
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