The other day when I was walking I swear I smelled
mangoes. The smell you would imagine one smells
when walking through a vast mango garden.
However there surely isn't a mango garden in
Illinois, so why do I smell mangoes? And such
a powerful mango odor at that. Its been raining
for like three days and its horrible. Avery and I
cannot go to the park or go for walks and smell
phantom mangoes, we are forced to entertain
ourselves inside. We invented this great game
where he throws things from his saucer and I
dive dramatically after them, he finds this
hilarious. The rain inspires all kinds of sortid
boredom relief, such as chickwich and I standing
on the porch and listening as the neighbors argue.
We often like to make up our own backstories as
to what started the argument; for example yesterday
she wanted him shave her back but he refused,
insisting it was her week to shave his back. Well she
wouldn't stand for this and threw a bowl at him, his
good spitting bowl! Upon seeing his dear spitting bowl
shattered he then went after her and shaved her left eyebrow
and the fighting continued. At least thats what me and
chickwich decided happened. Conversations about rain
reminded Robert of a song. So the rain technically forced
me into downloading Milli Vanilli's Blame it on the Rain,
which is absolutely despicable. I wonder if the rain will wash
away whatever is putting out that mango stank, I hope not
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