it's always the same old quicksand,
but hold still, and enough suns will dry you loose.
On the other hand,
Sock Monkey has been moving up for years.
He never gave a big green shit who he had to screw in order to rise.
He's just hanging on.
The thing about the future is, that it's so uncertain.
Try the dart board.
Check out the Ouija.
Ex-Mrs. Sock Monkey cleaned him out,
took the kids,
the floor beneath his soft round feet.
A lot of things can be overcome,
but some suck the soul right out of anybody.
Wood veneer crushes initiative.
Bad wallpaper encourages self-harm.
Ugly armchairs send anybody to the madhouse.
Behold, Sock Monkey,
suspended like a cartoon character, cliffside, with branch.
If he lets go, he lands on the desk of Edwin Albert Peach, CPA,
his future forfeit, himself, a debit never to be recouped.
So, Mister Monkey,
ask the Ouija a question.
You'll have to let go, to touch the planchette,
but c'mon, make a leap of faith.
You are a monkey, after all.
See the future revealed.
we have no
you'll never get her back--
Day, de light, and you'll never go home.
for Mag 221. This whole scene, with its dreary browns and defeated decor, screamed 1970s divorced dad pad.