sweet brown buns of sugar.

sweet teeth and fat bellies.
me and the family are feasting, duders.
since the howlin'-mad moonbeams have rendered sleep a non-option,
i've been bakin by the blue light of the blue moon.
and just because it's twice in a month,
i don't see why i have to be twice as wolfen.
but i am.
and so early shirley in the still-dark,
i started kneading on some treats:
did ya'll hear a jamaican talking about an evildoer's butt?
y'know,
sinnah mon buns?
oh, c'mon, bumbaclots.
that's horrible.
but those cinnamon buns aren't horrible.
in fact, they're delicious.
i've already whole-hogged out on three of 'em.

it took about six bites to gain membership in the clean plate club.

there're still 5 fat bottom bombers left;

though i doubt they'll last through lunchtime.

bellyache city, ninjas.

that's where i'm headed.

the kids officiously pointed out,

in-between cinnamon-sugaru mouthfuls of brown blops,

that this is NOT the most nutritious breakfast.

i disagree.

i mean,

i did put a confectioner's glaze on 'em too.

that's probably got some vitamins in it.

but only if we regard sugar as a vitamin, y'heard?

i'm gonna.

because i also got some rootin' tootin' rooty beers for tonight.

and they're positively loaded with those vitamins.

pure cane ones, even.

hyper-quenched, mother-licker.

that's how i'm doing it.

although i'm sure to be more of the former than the latter.

***********

we've got the whole day together.

me, the wifey, the pajama jammie-jammers, and the dog.

and it's permafrost tundra cold outside.

and we've got plenty of catch-up chores to do.

AND it's the end of the year.

AND school vacation is closing in on itself.

that's a lot of ands.

now we'll just need some ifs and buts for our butts,

and then we can disregard the lame parts,

and wrest a wave of windy winter wonder from the workpile,

AND wreak a weak-sauce-walloping wassail through the woods.

chores?

c'mon.

that's for the small lives and unworthy warriors-

we're on that year-end full-moon sugar-high thunderclap sh!t...

what the F* does chores have to doo-doo with that?;

never quiet, never soft.....