Frumpy dipped a dabble down

Frumpy dipped a dabble down. Rain and wet and bloodred ground. Eyes askew he sat on bum, very far from aplomb, sadness wet and drippy.

Frumpy'd rode and heaved hell hard. Pushed and cracked and worked the yard. Moved'm tons mile and mile, but nary once a meager smile, shoulders grunched and gloppy.

Bureaucracy

"I live to stamp, sir."

"Oh?" I wasn't sure what, if anything, I should object to - living versus existing, 'stamping' being a play on 'serving', or even the double-whammy of changing 'live' to 'love', which only raised the issue of a created being's ability to feel love.

Twas the Night Before Friday

[Written Round Robin style in March 2017. Many coauthors. Some small corrections, but mostly untouched. You decide if anyone knew how rhyming couplets work!]

Twas the night before Friday, and all through the Coop, the redditors gathered to consume some soup. I looked over the menu, in search of something tasty. I needed a menu item clarified, so I asked the guy next to me - yeah, the guy that's pasty. When I looked in my hand, I saw that I had a beer, a wine, and a whiskey that's bland. And then, all of the sudden I heard my favorite band. Radio isn't dead, at least not the FM band!

So I jumped to my feet as the funky music blared, not one person noticed - no one cared! I'm disappointed Simon didn't paint the Eagles on the side of his car. But Jesse gave no fucks, as he talked to Nihar.