I am a frayed and nibbled survivor in a fallen world, and I am getting along. I am aging and eaten and have done my share of eating too.
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Christmas is a holiday that persecutes the lonely, the frayed, and the rejected.
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'A string walked into a bar, hopped on the barstool, and said, 'Bartender, gimme a beer.' The bartender said, 'I'm sorry, sir, we don't serve strings here.' Disappointed, the string hopped down from the stool and went to the next bar. He hopped on the barstool and said, again, 'Bartender, gimme a beer.' The bartender said, 'I'm sorry sir, we don't serve strings here.' The string continued down the row of bars in this fashion. At every bar, he hopped on the barstool and said, 'Bartender, gimme a beer.' The bartender at every bar in turn said, 'I'm sorry sir, we don't serve strings here.' Finally he got to the last bar in the area. He was tired, he was sweaty, all he wanted was a beer. He trudged inside, climbed on the barstool, and said, 'Bartender, gimme a beer.' This bartender, too, said, 'I'm sorry, sir, we don't serve strings here.' Tired and angry, the string walked outside to think. He was a hard-working string. He deserved a beer. Finally, he came up with an idea. He had a passerby tie him up into a bow and frazzle his ends. Then he went back into the bar, and climbed up on the barstool. 'Bartender, gimme a beer!' he said loudly. The bartender looked him over critically, and finally yelled, 'Hey, aren't you that string that was in here a few minutes ago?' The string replied coolly, 'Nope, I'm a frayed knot.''
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'A string walked into a bar, hopped on the barstool, and said, 'Bartender, gimme a beer.' The bartender said, 'I'm sorry, sir, we don't serve strings here.' Disappointed, the string hopped down from the stool and went to the next bar. He hopped on the barstool and said, again, 'Bartender, gimme a beer.' The bartender said, 'I'm sorry sir, we don't serve strings here.' The string continued down the row of bars in this fashion. At every bar, he hopped on the barstool and said, 'Bartender, gimme a beer.' The bartender at every bar in turn said, 'I'm sorry sir, we don't serve strings here.' Finally he got to the last bar in the area. He was tired, he was sweaty, all he wanted was a beer. He trudged inside, climbed on the barstool, and said, 'Bartender, gimme a beer.' This bartender, too, said, 'I'm sorry, sir, we don't serve strings here.' Tired and angry, the string walked outside to think. He was a hard-working string. He deserved a beer. Finally, he came up with an idea. He had a passerby tie him up into a bow and frazzle his ends. Then he went back into the bar, and climbed up on the barstool. 'Bartender, gimme a beer!' he said loudly. The bartender looked him over critically, and finally yelled, 'Hey, aren't you that string that was in here a few minutes ago?' The string replied coolly, 'Nope, I'm a frayed knot.''
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I'm tired of playing worn-out depressing ladies in frayed bathrobes. I'm going to get a new hairdo and look terrific and go back to school and...
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