Starkle, starkle

Starkle, starkle, little twink

Who the hell you are I think?

I’m not under what they call

The affluence of incohol

I’m not as drunk as thinkle peep,

I’m just a little slort of sheep

Tee many martoonies make a guy

Feel so foolish, don’t know why

Really don’t know who’s me yet,

The drunker I stay the longer I get

So one more fink to drill by cup

I’ve all day sober to sunday up

Don’t forget to look for starkles while you stumble around the path of life.

Who’s Link?

So I got two new pairs of coveralls the other day, as the ones the company sells us only last about a month or so until the crotch blows out. Threw on a clean pair today, and wrote ‘Link’ on the left arm, so no one can take them ‘accidentally.’

I’m in the doghouse for one reason or another, and the driller looks at me, and says, ‘Who’s Link?’

I said “Me”

d: ‘No, who’s Link?’

l: “It’s what people have called me since I was little”

d: ‘Who’s Link?’

l: “Well I’m not really sure, that’s a deeply existential question at the best of times, Russ.”

He just looked at me like I’d grown a third arm and said, ‘So like the video game Link then?’. I just said “Sure,” and got back to my work. I giggled about that all night. It’s the little things that keep me going.