There's a lovely little Charlie Brown parody over here:
Brown.
It’s easy to get lost in the shuffle of madness when you’ve got a name like Brown.
That goes with the territory, of course, the land of the toy piano and the empty mailbox, the sketchy gauntlet of sinister trees and greedy sidewalks, sequestering their stolen treasures, their kite and ice cream cone holdings, a booty for the next shrink who writes me in his datebook.
I’m cursed. Have been since I was a boy. I’m not blind to the fact.
And illustrations of the story are for sale over here. I really wanted the drunken Schroeder one, but it's already sold. Sigh.
Comments (1) RSS