[This entry is dedicated to Russell, ﷺ, and the squirrels (صلى الله عليهم وسلم) that tried to sit on my lap even though I told them that I was not toresbe.]

The man handed us burritos full of spinach-infused E. coli and salsa verde of the botulist manifesto. Para llevar? You bet. I need to get me some waterfall Giardia to right my viscera or I'm bound to start hallucinating mountain paths full of dogs, Россиянe, inedible gorp, and children throwing themselves to their death. Hi, kids.

池乃花, 納豆, ミルクイ, what happened to the garlic bread‽ Can you imagine being allergic to 艾絨? My Dreamsicle can't.

Now fly, fly away to the land of the peppermint tea, the deer without fear, the queer, the other beer, Sue's sambar. I like my இட்லி pretty damn fancy, but we're not in मुंबई, are we, Toto?

There is a warp in the space-time continuum, causing multiple instances of calderae and 27 Dresses. One fled a bookstore and flew to its adopted homeland. One time.

It sure is windy atop this peak, and while Phil Collins sings about burning down some kind of mission, the husband is eying Mr. MacLachlan. My ex's ex gives a lesson about testosterone, but we are too far away to see the bison. The bison do not, it would seem, give a damn about us or Irving, and they do not care about the worker exposing her VS panties.

A secret hidden jeep whisks, and a card hides defiantly in my wallet. Nothing more can be said, and not for the reasons you think.