Ballard Street by Jerry Van Amerongen for October 18, 2007

Could be worse!

Cleo couldn’t hear the question….

she stuffed the last three handfuls of chips in her mouth all at once,

so Clara would go fetch some more.

she drools, of course, but only for fun….

she doesn’t need to create werebasset underlings or zombie slaves…

she’s already got human minions.

Meanwhile, Ben doesn’t know whether to suspect that his own suspicions are somehow suspect….

or to be suspicious of himself for harboring such suspicious suspicions…. some of which he suspects are somewhat specious.

Where basset?

There Basset!

Couldn’t help it. I felt it needed to be said.

I recall a gypsy woman

Silver spangles in her eyes

Ivory skin against the moonlight

And the taste of life’s sweet wine.

Yes Claude, the life of a basset is usually a fabulous life!!!

Egads! Basset Hound Drool!!!

Actually, that is a magic elixir. Bassets spread it around like fairy dust, and anyone who is lucky enough to be drooled upon gets super powers. You know, like flying, x-ray vision, the ability to eat a whole bag of chips in one sitting! Pass the dip.

Cleo will get back to you on that, Claude, after he gets that other bag of chips.

Recursive paranoia is the worst kind of recursive paranoia. :)