Tim Earley


Her favorite word was darkling.
She named all her pets after it.
Time is a sunny balloon.
She did not understand that.
Instead, she drank wine. Dark, dark, wine.

His favorite word was spooky. He was not good at his job.

The baby's favorite word was duckshit.
When his mother said it, he giggled and clapped at the air.
He grew up in a stanchion of old standards.
He wore ascots.
The ladies swooned.

God's favorite word is money. God sure does love his money.

The angels' favorite word is flippity-hippity-blow-God.
It means they think God is oft misguided.

When they say it,
they are cast into hell with the ambitious horses.

The devil's favorite word is ambitious horses.

My favorite word is tympanum. It means, "to tread lightly, even among the thistles."

Your favorite word may vary depending upon your particular leanings.

The favorite word of the word "Hamstring" is "Bouillabaise."

The favorite word of the word "Bougainvillea" is "Swarthy."

The favorite word of the word "Moisture" is "Reticulate."

The little flowers in the field have their favorite words, too.




While sitting in my Escalade at the Taco Bell Drive-Thru, two thoughts occurred to me as the moon occurs to all sublunary beings in moments of titular respite and abjurative horror. You too, I'm sure, have seen divine protestation. Thought A: I got this one bad tooth treat everything like a mandate. Thought B: The biggest thing I ever killed didn't have any lips. Randy was still acting like an absolute ass. The bass thumped. Young Thom, freshly keeled and knickered, forewent his remaining obligations.