Sunday, January 13, 2008

under milk wood

From the brilliant pen of Dylan Thomas:

Alone in the hissing laboratory of his wishes, Mr Pugh minces among bad vats and Jeroboams, tiptoes through spinneys of murdering herbs, agony dancing in his crucibles, and mixes especially for Mrs Pugh a venomous porridge unknown to toxologists which will scald and viper through her until her ears fall off like figs, her toes grow big and black as balloons, and steam comes screaming out of her navel.


moseydotes said...

If only they made a Mrs. Pugh humidifier that spewed steam out of her navel. How ungodly awesome would that be?

Matt said...

That is hilarious!! You just made my day! And that would be so awesome.