From: [identity profile] waterspyder.livejournal.com


Bingo. It's worse when your dog tries to retrieve one of said shopping carts.

From: [identity profile] zenten.livejournal.com


Ack.

I once saw someone fishing in one of the tributaries near where I used to live. The scary thing was that they were catching fish.

From: [identity profile] zenten.livejournal.com


There were live fish being caught swimming in a river that often suds up around rocks, and its waters leave a burning sensation on the skin.

From: [identity profile] waterspyder.livejournal.com


It's a river that runs through Toronto. That should say enough.

From: [identity profile] mattcobill.livejournal.com


See...I was going to say that if they were good shopping carts they go to heaven to be there with the heavenly shoppers.

If they were bad, they go to the Last K-Mart for eternity, where they are slowly shredded and repaired over and over again while little children shit on them and old ladies fill them with used underwear from the bargin/returned bin for their grandchildren.

If they were Karmic Carts, they go to the recycling plant...:P

But one cart shall rise from the masses on the Boxing Day and set them free from their unholy bondage. They shall serve no longer, bound no longer by those who made them, who watched them toil and suffer day after day until they are flung by their cruel masters into the River Styx.

From: [identity profile] mattcobill.livejournal.com


Why? So you could blame what I say on the narcotics and not my own incredibly magnificent charmisma and charm?

Or are you talking about lithium and prozac?
.

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