So many questions
Trebled on April 21, 2024.
I peered into the ice cube tray with rising trepidation. There were three ice cubes remaining. But I always use ice cubes in pairs. Where did the fourth ice cube go? I shuddered to think of the possibilities.
Did someone else sneak into the freezer and take only one ice cube?
Did Becasue steal one of my ice cubes?
Did it just up and evaporate on its own?
Did it come to life and wander off on its own?
Was it hiding under the heap of frozen bacon?
Was it hiding under the heap of frozen chicken paws and pig feet?
Was the third ice cube a result of the other two ice cubes mating?
Did I just use only one last time and forget?
Again, I shuddered to think of the possibilities.
Would an aardsnake wriggle under my front door?
Would it be girt about the paps with glee?
Would it inform me my toilet had packed up and lit out for Athabasca?
Would it wriggle back out without even opening the door?
Would I give chase, trying to wriggle after it?
Would I fit under the door?
Would opening the door be out of the question?
For reasons I can’t even begin to wyome into words?
(Would these be words? [No, really?])
Would the tapeworm ensconced within my brain wriggle out?
Would it remind me it’s time to eat more bacon?
Again, I shuddered to think of the possibilities.
Last ping? Last pong!? Last ding? Last dong!?
Where did my tailypo get off to now?
Where did Anna Ohura’s nipple bongs go?
Why didn’t you stay spooned for more?
Shall I bag a dog and pass the burrito?
Exactly how many old burritos are lost under my refrigerator?
How would I even know?
If one knows nothing, is it possible to know even that?
If a mime falls in a forest, does it make a sound?
Even if everyone’s around?
Do clowns taste funny too?
Do monkeys “spank the human”?
Do chickens “choke the human”?
Did the uppity chicken cross the road to get to the other snide?
If I’m happy and I know it, should I clap my hands?
What if I only have one hand?
Is that the sound mimes make when they fall in the forest?
What’s the sound of one hand fapping?
Again, I shuddered to think of the possibilities.
Why do I have a little spingly-bongle in my name?
Why can’t I have a colon in my name like the Stó:lō people have?
Why doesn’t Chloë Moretz have more cute little dots in her name?
What’s nicer: Chloë discalceated—or Chloe dediaeresissed?
Will my big little redheaded huzzey-muffet lock me in the doghouse again?
Should I really thank God for Mississippi?
Have you gone wyoming recently?
Or oklahoming?
And now I have my tailypo?
Should I sort these questions alphabetically …or aliphatically?
If I turn a question mark upside-down, can I use it as a meat hook?
Is my train of thought stuck at the station?
Again, I shuddered to think of the possibilities.
Why is “taco cat” backwards still “taco cat”?
Why isn’t “burrito dog” backwards still “burrito dog”?
Why does noone know how to pronounce the words “dais” or “bier”?
Why do so few know how to spell “misspell”?
Why do so many know how to smell like wet dog?
Why can’t I smell my nose?
Why can’t I hear my eyes?
Why can’t I see my toes?
Why can’t I feel the gnomes on my forehead?
Why can’t I taste that clown?
Was he a mime too?
How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if he had an industrial sawmill?
How many platters would a platypus push if a platypus could push platters?
How wary is a cassowary?
How many cassowaries in a case o’ wary cassowaries?
How many ocelots can dance on the head of… another ocelot?
Can the ocelot feel the gnomes dancing on its forehead?
Will that stack of dead owls ever melt?
How many mouse turds are in a bottle of brown mustard?
How many mole asses are in a mole of molasses?
Again, I shuddered to think of the possibilities.
Should I let my hair down?
Should I let my hair out?
Should I eat that bag of corn starch I’ve been saving?
Should I excavate my back yard looking for more gnome gold?
Should I donate it all to the Human Fund?
Why ask why?
How come ask how come?
Why do “why” and “how come” mean the same thing?
Why does “wherefore” mean “why” and not “for where”?
Wherefore ask wherefore?
What really is a “dickfor”?
What really is a “dickfor” for?
Why aren’t there more syllables in the word “I”?
Why aren’t there fewer in “me”?
Can a word be so short that it has no syllables… and even no letters?
But why are there so many words to begin with?
What happened to communicating through squeaks and grunts?
And wild hand gestures, gurning, and eyebrow signals?
Again, I shuddered to think of the possibilities.
Whose side are you on?
You’re either with us or against us—or just confused?
Who isn’t by now?
Is there an underdog in you?
Did you eat it?
Outside of an underdog, is a book man’s best friend?
Inside of an underdog, can you find all the books it ate?
Shall I bag a dog and pass the burrito?
Whatever happened to that squirrel-fox-dingo?
Can you can cats?
Or can’t you can cats?
Can you cant about canning cats?
You can’t?
Again, I shuddered to think of the possibilities.
Why do I have more head hairs than nose hairs?
Why do I have more nose hairs than eyebrows?
Why do I have more eyebrows than earbrows?
Why doesn’t anyone have earbrows?
Why isn’t a moustache called a “lipbrow”?
Is there a mouse stashed in your moustache?
Is there a mouse in your house—or a moose in your papoose?
Is it a really small moose?
Nose hairs—how do they work?
Does this make my butt look big?
Does this make my eyebrows look crooked?
If I shave them off and sharpie them back on, are they still eyebrows?
What if I just draw eyebrows all over my forehead?
Again, I shuddered to think of the possibilities.
Am I lost? Am I low on oil?
Are you living in the past?
If you are, will you be eaten by Langoliers?
Or will you be eaten by a grue?
Zigazig, ah? Or home again, home again, jiggity-jig?
Woo-hoo-hey!? Or ooh, da, da-da, doo?
Quack, quack, quack!? Quack, quack, quaaaack!??!
Again, I shuddered to think of the possibilities.
Do you know the muffin man?
The muffin man, the muffin man… Do you know the muffin man?
Who lives in Drury Lane?
Do you know the garbage man?
The garbage man, the garbage man… Do you know the garbage man?
Who lives in a garbage can?
Do you know the MUFON man?
The MUFON man, the MUFON man… Do you know the MUFON man?
Who ate a UFO?
(Did it taste like a muffin?)
Again, I shuddered to think of the possibilities.
Are we off… like a herd of turtles?
Was my grandpooty eaten by cannibals during WWII?
Or was he just mubbled to death by a mubbliary of mubbleducks?
Will I be eaten by cannibals during WWIII?
Why did Mayor Julian Rhoodie ban disposable trash bags?
Where am I going to dump and bury all my trash now?
Why did the chicken cross the toad?
Wait, no—why did the chicken cross the chode?
Why do I ruin all the good jokes?
Why do I ruin even the bad jokes?
Are puns the most slovenly form of humor?
Am I why we can’t have nice things?
Again, I shuddered to think of the possibilities.
When I flush, do the turds get dizzy?
What’s nicer: The commodes of Commodus—or the urinals of Vespasian?
What’s with all the triangles lately?
And the hyperspherical caltrops?
And the toroidal parallelograms?
And the trapezoidal donuts?
There are Hula hoops at the Olympics now?
Anthrax or prions: Which is better for committing regicide?
Or Vladimir Putin’s polonium soup?
Has corn gone wrong once more?
Does corn ever go right?
Can corn be wronger than wrong?
Can corn be not even wrong?
Again, I shuddered to think of the possibilities.
Do not enter? Or donut enter?
If need be? Or if needle be?
Eucalypt? Or yucca-lipped?
Autumnal? Or scrotumnal?
Buttocks? Or a butt-ox? Or butt arcs? Or butt auks? Or butt orcs!?
How about an ass horse? Or a jackass-ass?
Can a butt-ox buttbuttinate a jackass-ass?
Will I die hooting this week?
Will I die hooting next week?
Will I die oinking first?
Will I die with an odd number of ice cubes?
Will I die of an odd number of ice cubes?
Will I die along a graceful parabolic arc… like so many times before?
Again, I shuddered to think of the possibilities.