Writing Exercise: Stream of Thought in Five Minutes Sharp

And...GO!


It was only mildly disconcerting to awaken from my concussed state (damn that abandoned homemade steel drum...who the hell ditches one of those on the side of the road and, better yet, are their Nomadic Trinidadians in our midst? Should I alert the Idiophone Family Recovery Team? Their Kin and Groupie Ilk are known to occasionally go Rogue...and even Rouge when a Revlon Moment strikes their respective Fancies) with a Tootsie Roll Pop (unwrapped and, per the stench, formerly Apple-Flavored with a newly acquired under-tainting wiff of soiled ascot...nothing quite like the collision of artificial appley-ness and lower neck and upper torso pore seepage to cause an Olfactory Rebellion and subsequent Mucuous Tribe Exodus) affixed to my what would one day be referred to as my Southern Jowl Region. Is it possible that the former Candy Item was actually used as a modified drumstick or had my unforewarmed Encounter with the alleged Steel Drum dislodged the Tootsie Pop from some Willie Wonkian parallel universe and, thus, converted the lower quadrant of my cheek into some sort of gooed Landing Platform for some sort of Sugary Omen of Ills to Come? Was it a stronger possibility that some Well-Dressed Dandy--in cahoots with, quite obviously, a wayward native of Trinidad or Tobago no longer in need of his/her instrument of choice-- had come upon my Prone Form and, in a fit of Shenanigans, adhered his pre-sucked treat onto me after vigorously swiping it upon his particular neckwear option?

I will not let your Tootsie Pop Friction-n-Stick-Um Gag deter me...mark my words.