Canmering Away At The Various Nailheads Of Life

Recently, my brother came a-knocking upon my chamber door. At first, I ignored his knockings, as I was otherwise indisposed, but eventually I relented, arose from my recumbent pose upon my comparatively humble pallet, and went to my door, the lintel of which is obviously forsaken of and unornamented by a bust of Pallas, yet I am not Poe's somewhat well-to-do narrator, so....I digress. Let me just finally arrive at the whole point and punchline of this particular and peculiar yet picayune semi-autobiographical story: So, I flung wide open the door, but neither so suddenly nor violently as to so take my brother off his guard that said flinging door struck him full in the face, but with still such a show of force that he well knew that he had awakened to full furiousness the rather sporadically beastly person who dwelt behind it. At any rate, startled by my unoccluding of the door or not, the first thing out of his mouth was a query concerning my collection of tools, which is even humbler than my pallet. In short, he inquired of me as to whether or not I possessed a hammer, to which inquiry I replied only that I used to, and then made a brief, dumb show of gesturally looking for it. When my silly and simple search proved fruitless, I then said, upon seeing a stack of canned food that sat upon the splintered shelf in the marred and ancient armoire that formerly belonged to our deceased father, "What if you were to use this can? Or, if you like, this CANMER"? (And thus concludes my hardly lengthy nor revelatory tale. Lol)

👍︎ 2
📅︎ Aug 21 2021
🚨︎ report

Please note that this site uses cookies to personalise content and adverts, to provide social media features, and to analyse web traffic. Click here for more information.