|The old man was bald and white and had|
not written a blog in two weeks
The old man was bald and white and his bellybutton sometimes collected lint, for it was an innie. Yellow blotches were on his boxer shorts, but not what you think, for he had made himself fried eggs that morning. There were brown and yellow blotches on his tee-shirt as well, for he was also drinking coffee. Some of the blotches were fresher than others. His brown and yellow blotched tee-shirt did not cover his lint-filled bellybutton, which was an innie. Or did I tell you that part already?
Every part about him was bald except his legs which were hairy and the inside of his nose, which looked like twin caves with shrubbery growing in them. Of his toes, the less said the better.
"Sugar-dumpling," his wife said to him, "put a coaster under your coffee, for you will leave a ring."
But the old man was thinking of something else. He began to write a blog. It was not a good blog. It was not a bad blog either. But it was a blog, and it had been two weeks since he had written one.
"For God's sake," his wife said, "are you going to sit there in your underwear all day?"