Louis the Pouis
Disserted on May 3, 2026.
On this third day of May, let us remember that yipping chihuahua that someone once used as a football. Let us also remember the time a zebra schronked through my driveway, yapping and mlawing while he went on his flea-bitten way. I tried to use that stripey bastard as a football but zebras are much bigger than footballs. I broke my ankle.
Friday was May Day. Becasue and I erected a 10′ phallus in our back yard and danced naked around it until we dropped. We do this every day so our neighbors don’t even notice nor care anymore.
Thursday was the thirtieth day of April. It upsets me that April has so few days. April is my favorite month. It should have a few more.
Going to the bathroom was the most productive thing I did on Wednesday.
Then things got interesting—on Tuesday. Carousing about Wikipedia, forty-seven tabs open, I came across an article on Louis the Pious and accidentally read his name as “Louis the Pouis.”
“Louie the Pooey?” I giggled like a schoolgirl.
But on Monday, I finished writing my dissertation on the environmental implications of the ready availability of peanut butter. My thesis was that it was all Jimmy Carter’s fault—that he alone, in fact, can be blamed for 0.00 039°C of global warming. I printed it out, stapled it together, stuffed it in an envelope, taped it up and covered it in stamps, and then mailed it to the university. Now, I wait.