"I don't care what my snot nosed grandson says, this is delicious" said an old man to no one. He was sitting on a wooden stool and eating Kellogg's Krave with a platic spoon and a paper bowl. A fan gently blew his tattered bathrobe and an old copy of The Washington Times dated february 29, 1997. He was listening to Terrapin Station on a casette player and as the music softly filled the dilapidated mobile home, he decided it was time to check the mail. "I'm going to check the red box." he said to his wife who was not there.

He walked outside slowly, taking care with each step for he rarely walked outside anymore. Especially since it was very windy and he was somewhat afraid he might be blown over. He reached the red mailbox with peeling paint but beneath it was a perfectly green frog almost cartoonish in it's appearance.

"come on Kermit lets see if you're the real deal." said the bearded man to no one. With a bit of luck he was able to catch the slimy creature in his wrinkled hands. "beautiful day isn't it, kermit?" asked the old man to the frog.
"Ribbit"
"No come on I know damn well you can talk, there's no such thing as an unenchanted frog with skin that bright." he said to the neon green frog.

So with the frog in his back hand he stumbled to a plot of land that could be described as his back yard. There was a worn tire, a charred firescape with a pile of wood next to it and some empty beer cans and a lawn chair and a cooler with 5 beers left. And the old man sat in the lawn chair with the particularly green frog in his two hands. " You're finally going to tell me the truth about what happened in memphis," said the old man to the frog. "In 1989."
"ribbit" said the frog from the 21st century or possibly another epoch entirely.
A scowl formed on the old mans face. "listen I will burn you." he said. He lit the wood on fire. the wind blew it out. He cursed the gods as he knew them and their lineage. He lit the fire once more. this time the fire blazed and he threw new wood into the pit.
" I will burn you!!!" shouted the old man.
nothing.

And so he tossed the frog into the fire and heard a crackle and a pop. His face uncurled and a look of pity and despair showed on his widened eyes.
" you were not the one." said the old man softly. He cracked opened a beer and on the side of his home etched a 223rd mark upon it with a box cutter.
200 dollars of rent would be due in 3 days but he did not think about this or the burning frog or his krave cereal. Instead he thought of a young tarot card reader he had met on the streets of memphis outside a hard rock cafe that was artificially blues theme and mostly filled with tourists.
The image burned the front lobe of his brain and extended to his retinas. It seared his skull and prevented him from seeing any of the lawn in front of him and only a giant image of a tarot card with a bright green frog.
a few minutes from now he will begin to remember faintly the events that happened after he saw the bright green frog on the poorly drawn tarot card on that day and tears will stream down his eyes and as he remembers he will begin to drink more than just beer and then he will forget again and murder another frog. It will burn just like his wife did.

er, that's a bunch of words

is it wrong I expected more racism?

I was using the toilet as my girlfriend was blow drying her hair, all of a sudden she turned to me, pointed the blow dryer to my junk and while in mid pee, blew all my piss to the floor while she laughed hysterically.

Brilliant!

Deserves own TR thread imo

Let my inspiration flow in token rhyme, suggesting rhythm,
That will not forsake you, till my tale is told and done.
While the firelight's aglow, strange shadows from the flames will grow,
Till things we've never seen will seem familiar.

Shadows of a sailor, forming winds both foul and fair all swarm.
Down in Carlisle, he loved a lady many years ago.
Here beside him stands a man, a soldier from the looks of him,
Who came through many fights, but lost at love.

While the story teller speaks, a door within the fire creaks;
Suddenly flies open, and a girl is standing there.
Eyes alight, with glowing hair, all that fancy paints as fair,
She takes her fan and throws it, in the lion's den.

Which of you to gain me, tell, will risk uncertain pains of hell?
I will not forgive you if you will not take the chance.
The sailor gave at least a try, the soldier being much too wise,
Strategy was his strength, and not disaster.

The sailor, coming out again, the lady fairly leapt at him.
That's how it stands today. You decide if he was wise.
The story teller makes no choice. Soon you will not hear his voice.
His job is to shed light, and not to master.

Since the end is never told, we pay the teller off in gold,
In hopes he will come back, but he cannot be bought or sold.

Terrapin Station

Inspiration, move me brightly. Light the song with sense and color;
Hold away despair, more than this I will not ask.
Faced with mysteries dark and vast, statements just seem vain at last.
Some rise, some fall, some climb, to get to Terrapin.

Counting stars by candlelight, all are dim but one is bright;
The spiral light of Venus, rising first and shining best,
On, from the northwest corner, of a brand new crescent moon,
While crickets and cicadas sing a rare and different tune,
Terrapin Station.

In the shadow of the moon, Terrapin Station.
And I know we'll get there soon, Terrapin Station.
I can't figure out, Terrapin, if it's the end or beginning, Terrapin,
But the train's put its brakes on, Terrapin,
And the whistle is screaming, TERRAPIN.

Terrapin Station - At the Siding

While you were gone, these faces filled with darkness.
The obvious was hidden. With nothing to believe in,
The compass always points to Terrapin.

Sullen wings of fortune beat like rain.
You're back in Terrapin for good or ill again, for good or ill again.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k77EE3a7DUg

James Summers walked into a Madison Denny's on Tuesday dressed in a maroon tie and black trench coat and carrying a briefcase, according to police. He strode into the manager's office, told her he was the new general manager and then fixed himself a burger, fries and a soda before police arrived.

"This is why you don't dine and dash, kiddies," Summers yelled out to diners as officers took him away, police said in a release.

Tadpoles are people too
Meat is murder!

Here's another ****ing gem.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7BExP0iZaTI

spaceman Bryce is legend

OP's gramps havin an acid flashback...

Some of Robert Hunters best lyrics imo

sticky now mods or die

Fantastic.

just because this is a sticky doesn't mean i'm gonna read it

1997 wasn't even a leap year, what does this mean

I like the use of Kellogg's Krave cereal, and what i find to be subtle ridicule of commercialism. The old man is desperately craving something, but it isn't his cereal imo.

sticky

lol didn't read

more

Y'all trippin' up in here.

bryce does it again

Frogs don't talk bro.

back when commericals were good.