A friend ship is a sacred floater. A chemo-thera-peutic bond twixt two, like beans and cream. I’ve never sucked from the meat-cup, having even one chum. But my cronylessness is about to died of lonelynessness. For today is the day I make my first real friend. Constructed fromst cat feathers and eagle mud, I do believe Sooguhluh and I will become the bosomest of brahs.

“I love you Soogy, are you my mommy?” I embrace Soogy. “Hold me mommy.” Soogy is wrenched out of my grip.

“C’mon, prude,” I say, “You know you want it, no one has to know.”

The wind took hold of Soogy and whisked him in the direction of a bikini-clad woman.

Betrayed yet again. T’weren’t Sooguhluh who blew me off. T’was my new nemesis: the wind. My enema numbero un’.

I take the fight to a gusty cliff and batter my enemy with blows. Wind, you have fume-hiliated me for the last time, always putting on airs. You’re just the rejected breath from the great cosmic yawn of consciousness. Thou win-*d*? More like thou *lose*, duh. I declarate war on thine.

I approached a man working at a turbine farm.

“Yes, enslave the wind, capturously enyolk the gutless bloke.”

“Get away from me.”

“Noble sir, you make the wind suck-umb, throwing work the wind like an ox-or-moron. You’re the enemy of my enemy: my friend.”

“Guy, you obviously have no friends.”

“With these pinwheels, you grab wind by the scruff of its neck and whip the wicked fiend into suckling at the hotdog of your bidding.”