Sunday, December 28, 2014

Bathrobe Time is Sacred

When I don my plush black velour bathrobe, my broad shoulders filling that garment like lava engulfing a valley, I am a morning God. I will sip my coffee and rub my cheek against the fabric like a newborn cub. I see myself as nobility in exile, driven out by ungrateful peasants, just waiting for my minions to arise and return me to my rightful dominion.
Meantime, I will relax in my state of the art recliner and wait for my pet turtle to awaken so I have something to talk to.

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