The Blue Parakeet is Asleep Under The Pancakes

I'Ve Been Writing Down Little Slices Of My Life For Years. Folks In The Small Pond I Live In Have Been Making Me Happy Telling Me How My Scribblings Have Made Them Smile - Remembering. When I Digress Which I Do With Some Frequency They Often Comment That My Musings About Life And Living Often Strike A Similar Chord In Their Lives. This Gives Me Pause As The World That Revolves In My Head Is Often A Strange And Curious Place Unlike That Of Normal Folks. It Is Sometimes A Surprise When I Find Others Thinking Along Similar Lines. This May Or May Not Be A Good Thing For Life As We Know It In America. Good Perhaps For The Economy. Not So Good For Solid Work Ethics General Sanity And Production Goals. An Official Poll Taken Recently Said That The Number Of Devotees Of My Column Clamoring For Past Copies And Stories Might Support A Book Of The Same. To This End I Offer The Next Pages. The Chosen Title To This Tome Of Assaults On Literature Comes As Do Most Of My Stories From An Actual Event. The Sentence Is So Nonsensical Yet Perfect In Its Nothingness As To Sum Up Most Of My Writing If Not My Existence. More Years Ago Than I Care To Admit To In Spanish Class At Pennsauken High School I Was Caught Admiring Some Extreme Bumps In A V-Neck Angora Sweater. The Unforgettable Fragrance Of Heaven Scent Was Wafting Over Me. The High School Junior Who Wore Both The Sweater And Heaven'S Scent Was Blissfully Unaware Of My Presence Or Was Just Enjoying Torturing My Very Young Freshman Soul. My Fellow Tortured Soul Freshman Buddy Ed Was Equally Aware Of The Drama Surrounding Our Seating Arrangements. Needless To Say The Goings-On Of Spanish Academics Was All But Being Ignored. When Senora Pla Our Very Short But Serious Spanish Teacher Interrupted Our Hormone-Filled Airspace With Questions About The Day'S Lesson I Was Caught Speechless. Not So Ed. In A Moment Captured Forever In My Mind Ed'S Answer To Translating The Sentence Scribbled On The Board In Front Of