MIM-EEYORE-GRAPH

TO: O CHLOPERNICUS FLOPS
RE: UPCOMING ZOO EVENTS 

Sadly there is but one remaining polar bear, the other three having thawed to death and, needless to say, I am up to it something fierce with the resultant paperwork. The form after form deal. It's been a busy week. Yesterday I tried to find a female polar bear in Boston capable of being impregnated by Beardsley (our remaining bear), but, despite all the forms I did manage to fill out, we came out empty-handed, broke, and drunk on vodka sevens. Now I have a headache and Lisa is arguing that we ought to maybe think about breeding Beardsley with a light-coloured black bear. Which basically on the face of it would appear to mean we only have one polar bear at Papanack Park-Zoo to go with our no more damn money left.

This brings me to our upcoming Charity Ball. We can't even afford Papanack Park-Zoo stationary anymore. We're pretending that the Ball has to do with raising money to protect endangered species but that's actually bullshit. The fuckin zoo is broke, okay? Nobody fucking cares about zoos anymore.  The zoo is going out of business, babe, and we really need some help, pronto. Get your ass over here and help us. If you don't come, well, I'm afraid there maybe won't be any polar bears at all left to worry about.

Pretty, uh, little head...worry about....

I understand what you said about your husband's new professional responsibilities, but I will confess I'm having trouble seeing what it has to do with me, the stressed-out cuss over here up the posterior of his own Fauvist posture. I miss so much your long hair and kisses, and also acerbic rejoinders and boastful declarations of trashwothiness. When you doe-eye, me toes dance. Neither of my eyes is to be taken seriously on its own, not really. Oh, Blue Angel. Your blue eyes are the crueler blue, it's so. Not cruller like the pastry. O, greetings my Dynasty! I imagine you both double to myself and also the future of womankind and solar energy applied. After urinating and then lazily playing with myself on the floor, I have woken up from naps on two occasions this afternoon, and the word 'mung' entered my thoughts both times, which saddened me enormously for no clear reason. 

Oh, Chlopernicus, Inscrutable One!

Sex with anybody else is like licking postage stamps, comparatively. And I'm such a sour homunculus. How's life in the butterfly net?

Lisa is pestering me. I'd eat dung for you, old girl. Wish we could fuck. I mean make love. Got to clear all this shit out of the warehouse. I feel like I work in a depopulated urban wasteland, and that can't be good for morale. I want to grow peaches someday. New York State. That upper part. Or the Azores, Lol. Remember when I told you I wanted to be International Light Inspector? I wanted to watch translucent squid die on the decks of my rig. Little paper boats, made by children, would collect in my quarters, and I would sometimes visit the shoreline and dispatch one. I would redefine the profile of my relations. Late last night when I found myself wearing the table cloth, I thought of that chat we had about the Amityville horror and, though wobbly, I loudly declared to all in I guess earshot that I hoped they all might find it in the deepest reaches of themselves to bleed just a little bit more, just a little bit longer, on all that grotty flooring they're swamped in, 'cause it's another fuckin morning without Chlopernicus present and accounted for and it is my requirement at the present time that she be here and be prepared to head out to Old Chelsea with me, on the Quebec side, and raise the precise sort of hell we discussed.

All Our Love,

THE PAPANACK PARK-ZOO    

Late 90s / Early 00s Ottawa Concert Flyers