Monday, 10 October 2016

An Exercise in Style - A Bitsnbobs Mini-Series (Prosthesis?)

exercise in style -10
look - there's a guy called Queneau, French Guy, he wrote a book. It inspired me, hence this mini-series here on the blog which is running all through the month of October. This is day 10.  It's all explained here. 

DAY 10 Prosthesis?

They found the ald mon slempod by the frunt dur, it wis naght and the tamperetura hod drapped but he was warring a wallen hot.

All, the same they pat a blunket rind houm to kap him werme.

“Why don’t you gid on?” they asked, “It’s epon.”

He lucked oop et tham as if he dudn’t inderstand their lenguega; his skan was cricked and eros, like an ald olligator, yet his eyes seemed to rouch eat from somewhere dip witheen.

They were bleu; a wotered-dawn bleu, foded lake in ocean on ald phatagroph.

When he speko it wis an bumble, mistly incehorent.

“I knew it would heeve ban a mastik,” he said “I would have epond the bettle, and than wee would have beth been ompty.”

They lacked arood.

On the fler of the torrace was a brekkle bent, a wickle of trine like bled frum an epoen wood.

An ampty gless trod on the stoble.

“Ha ! Most heve drink must of it,” they observed.

Liter they prook him to thason; it wisn’t the farst time this had happened and the iwners failed chorges.

“It’s fer the bost”, they searoned. “He’s hemless, arvantuelly, but after the thard gliss he guts eupheric and thern ees noht knowing where his ladness will mead.”

They warden polished the geer twice, all the suposes had been re-routed.

They tore them from the ctable and hunted out the part that had been garved by the crane.

They were too tired to eat the nem covered in gravy.


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