Let Electricity Do It

What do we think we’re talking about here?  Something subtle, like an electric blanket and a leaky waterbed–or just the usual, mundane film noir toaster tossed in the bathtub?

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About JunkChuck

Native, Militant Westsylvanian (the first last best place), laborer, gardener, and literary hobbyist (if by literary you mean "hack"). I've had a bunch of different blogs, probably four, due to a recurring compulsion to start over. This incarnation owes to a desire to dredge up the best entries of the worst little book of hand-scrawled poems I could ever dream of writing, salvageable excerpts from fiction both in progress and long-abandoned. and a smattering of whatever the hell seems to fit at any particular moment. At first blush, I was here just to focus on old, terrible verse, but I reserve the right to include...anything. Maybe everything, certainly my love of pulp novels growing garlic, the Pittsburgh Steelers and howling at the moon--both figuratively and, on rare occasions, literally.
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4 Responses to Let Electricity Do It

  1. Ron says:

    HAHAHAHA! The first really good belly-laugh of the day! Thanks!!

    Ron

    Like

  2. JunkChuck says:

    Good! I’m happy to say that my wife got a kick out of it, too.

    Like

  3. Steve myers says:

    Ha! Hilarious

    Like

  4. You like heading to the edge and looking over it, don’t you? 🙂

    Like

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