Boonswoggle bikin’ today with Ben, an illiterative lad, who managed magnificently to mouth several luscious, illiterative lines. Nicely notable nerdish words were debris boom and back-up beepers.
Queued curbside, tourist trailers don’t boast debris booms but should.
As last call looms back-up beepers broadcast burnished boasters.
Speaking of wienies, many years ago when bike messengers ruled the DC streets, Ben was a pedal jockey, a tall, adorable one, and he carried a pen, a personal pen, a pen no one would steal cause it was obviously HIS. You got to have a pen when it comes time to have the manifest signed. Ben’s pen had a little bird on it, a bird on a tiny spring, a bird with a very pointy beak, facing IN. Scribble your John Hancock with that pen and the little bird pecked away wildly, tapping for plastic beetles in his tiny plastic tree. “It’s a pen pecker,” Ben would grin. “The product, not the condition.”
The Lunch Encounter 