Early one morning, while crossing a stretch of desert on his way to visit his grandmother, Timmy came across a llama who was singing Kenny Rogers’ “The Coward of the County” while doing a load of laundry in a small wash basin beneath the shade of a desert palm.
“Gee whiz!” cried Timmy, amazed by the sight of a crooning Artiodactyla. “I had no idea llamas could even talk, much less sing!”
“Well,” replied the llama, not looking up. “Now you do”—and with that, he returned to scrubbing a pair of spectacularly soiled silk pajamas on his well-worn llama wash board.
~ finis ~
Oh yeah – like Llamas wear pajamas…
Let’s see . . .
Timmy is Everyman or the US Citizen . . . .
The llama is President Bush who is about to show Dems were to stuff it while unleashing hell on the insurgents and Iran . . .
The Gatlin boys just laughed at him when he walked into the barroom.
One of them got up and met him halfway ‘cross the floor.
When Tommy turned around they said, “Hey look! ol’ yellow’s leavin’.”
But you coulda heard a pin drop when Tommy stopped and blocked the door.
Twenty years of crawlin’ was bottled up inside him.
He wasn’t holdin’ nothin’ back; he let ‘em have it all.
When Tommy left the barroom not a Gatlin boy was standin’.
He said, “This one’s for Becky,” as he watched the last one fall.
We can only hope . . . .
I have seen and heard some terrifying things in my life (the sound of a 107mm rocket incoming, the curses of a downtown Chicago cabbie, etc.) – but the thought of how those silk pajamas might have become “spectacularly soiled” has me shivering in horror.
Llamas?
Someone has cornered that market.
Think big.
Think lemur!
Damn, I miss that ‘dillo.
Someone painted “April Fool” in big black letters on a “Dead End” sign
I had my foot on the gas as I left the road and blew out my mind
Eight miles outta Memphis and I got no spare
Eight miles straight up downtown somewhere
I just dropped in to see what condition my condition was in
tw: bad98
Olds, that is.
Raffi plagiarist.
Evidently, Timmy stumbled across my cousin Julian. He’s got some issues.
When I do the laundry, the song of choice is Toby Keith’s “You Ain’t Much Fun Since I Quit Drinking.”
One L lama, that’s a priest
Two L llama, that’s a beast
Three L lllama, that’s a fire, I’m gettin’ outta here.
So is Robert one who butchers llamas, or he is a llama who also happens to be a butcher?
Llamas in the desert? Is that geographically correct? Soiled silk pajamas are best burned, not washed…..
Were the names changed to protect the innocent?
Sing? Why, my rendition of “Hello Dolly” is so famous, I’m known as . . .
This could go on all day. Alpaca lunch.
Jeff..do you have a hard on for double “l”s?
Screw the Llama..bring back the ‘dillo!
(emphasis added)
Cool – you have the URL to this amazing site?
</sarcasm>
I have no idea what you are talking about, MScott.
Ahem.
Llassie, come home!
Timmy and the Llama—didn’t I see them in that Tijuana bar Andy Sullivan dragged me to?
Reminds me of Ogden Nash’s riddle rhyme:
“A one L lama is a priest,
A two L lama is a beast,
But I will bet you a silk pajama,
That you can’t think of a 3 L lama.”
Answer: A fire (a 3 alarma).
Where can I get a llama wash board? Do they have to be imported from Peru?
That sure was one illllama got rama’d.
Hmmmmmm….Who is Hussein Obama and al Gore still looking for love in all the wrong places?
Timmy, you’ve inspired me:
Oh, Llucy, I’m home!
Reminds me of a Clapton song – “You Taste Wonderful Tonight”
Beautiful Lucky
on the rotisserie…