Recent DJ Posts

Lofty
Unprepared for what the teacher whips us with, two are banished to the roof. My companion, a seeming sleek 50s model, sits, smiles, studies. I amble past pillars and benches bare. Our teacher! He is John Rhys-Davies, slick in suit yet somehow still stout and angular as a son of Gloin. "They will see us!" he yells. Shoved to stones. Crushed by a shield of flesh and bone. Can't breathe. And then... all is well. Sit for a spell. 50's beauty and I soak in the sanctity of lofty lessons.

Re-membered
Bare as the day I was born, relish the rush of steam and shower. What games were played? Can not recall. My team mates names? Can not recall. It does not matter. I am one. I am now. Sing and savor this hissing stall. Too soon comes a curious reality. Pants can not fit. Enormously endowed with a member of mammoth proportions, I panic. Half naked, trapped, distorted. Wish only for the safe and shielding shambles of my home.