From the Desk of Madame Zuchini

Bad to the Born

Today there will be no birthday’s. No one was born or  has been born or will be born on this day.  Unless today happens to be your birthday then disregard the previous sentence.  Or not. For you may choose for it not to be your birthday, depending on one’s traditional or ritual or meaningless drunken method of celebration. But  whatever the case, you will not feel in a birthday mood, or your friends may not be in the mood for you or your birthday.

There will be a viscous malaise dripping over your place of business, like wet laundry soaked in too much bleach. In a peculiar coincidence, the dreariness of the day will have an oddly clean smell. Or perhaps you have only bleached your bathroom floor and the smell stuck to you as  rotted meat sticks to teeth. (Does rotted meat stick to teeth? And if so, why? Note to self: have neighbor’s son eat rotted meat and see if it sticks to his teeth.)  Or more logically you  have only bleached your hair as the roots began to take over as wild vines will do. It’s sad when gardens die. Perhaps it is the smell of death; a clean death, the stench of which resounding like the death knell; permeating your world so you can’t  hear the television.  This is in general  a bad day to be born, one which will be borne each and every year, unless you get it legally changed to October 9th, (you may pick your own year).

Well, my cherished readers, I am sorry to bring you such doom and gloom, but Madame calls ’em as she sees ’em. Madame out

Word of the day: Colloquial. As in: Some people feel that eliminating letters from the beginning or end of words makes them sound young, hip – colloquial.