i gots nuttin

The Brian Jones Memorial pool officially opened last week.  Three fake Cardinal legends, a blond brunette named Sandra and liver-spotted “social drinkers” were on knee to help christen another season of poor decision making.  The weather failed to cooperate, however.  No one was Neal Cassidy enough to take the inaugural plunge.  There is no denying that our ever approaching date with oblivion has manifested itself psychologically.  The invincibility of youth and delusions of middle-age have been replaced with cautious malaise -- not to mention the real possibility of a six figure ICU bill should careless smoking collide with Col. Bill’s portable oxygen tank. 
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Alder and I are currently engaged in an argument.  He is adamant that Elvi is the proper word to describe two or more Elvis impersonators.   I disagree.   My choice is hunks (of burning love).   Sensible people, there is every reason to believe that we’ll sort this out before July.
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It’s been a bad week for the Newt. 
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Because of a well-placed family connection, I’ve been ask to name four new Crayola Crayon colors.  These are my suggestions:  Armageddon Crimson; Swarthy Other Brown; High Colonic Black; and Chuck Todd.  (Chuck Todd is a reddish brown that never quite covers the intended target, like the inspiration’s wispy chin whiskers).
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Aborted short story openings:

Delmar never quite came back after the decapitation.

Morgan knew it was wrong but ignited the flame thrower anyway.

Sonny’s mood swings kept inmates of Last Stop Manor on the edge of their Hoverounds. 

King Elmer, his massive biceps flexing preposterously with each thrust, felt thick throat muscles tighten at the sight of four .50 caliber machine guns.

It really was a dark and stormy night.

Glenda was convinced -- despite suffering horrible burn scars from a freak house trailer explosion -- that she was the hottest catch of Elks Lodge 88.

Denny had a hunch Trixie could replace Darlene even before their embarrassing parking lot foreplay became the talk of Splits Lane. 

He pushed the bounds of eccentricity by wearing a nylon stocking over his head when entering Third National Bank.

Although the city council supported Cal’s dream of opening the first sight-impaired Jiffy Lube, vocal critics felt the name was misleading.