Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Just more Google-hit inflation. Move along.

An image, and a phrase, captures my imagination (my dumb, child-like, easily fascinated by common rhymes imagination) that I just want to be known to the world as someone who once wrote the phrase in a blog post: A hail of snails.

Maybe it was breeding season for a certain gastropod species, and the slimy dears were teeming over their ancestral ditch banks, darting in and out of one another with their fabled love darts, when a stiff wind came up and scooped the lot of them--a whole tribe and neighborhood of whorl-shelled slime-gobs--carried them aloft in zephryal ecstasy, a transport so much greater than the workaday breeding they showed up for, and strewed them in the lap of a picnicking couple just a country mile from the erstwhile Kansas (as in, 'we're not there anymore') of their irrigation canal homeland, dropped them off in Oz. A hail of snails.

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