The Mezunian

The scent o’ 1 last snow before winter’s death.

Accompanying music: Your browser does not support the audio element. Rainy morn ~ February ends e’en earlier.

It doesn’t feel like winter anymo’, but it doesn’t feel like spring yet… <That is the feeling o’ autumn, sneaking ’tween January & March. ¿Have you forgotten it already dug so deep in your dank caves? ¿Did you not notice the morns smudged out white with fog evolving into bright yellow days chillywarm? ¿Have you […]

She’d been thinking ’bout it for a while & decided that the gingerhaired thiefrat that Moneybags obsessed o’er would have to pay. She was thinking ’bout it while walking down Habanero Highway, which always reeked o’ gasoline on the desert afternoons, on a trip toward Verditropolis, which she was now thinking she’d have to postpone […]

I haven’t been paying much attention to politics for the past… half decade or so. There used to be a joke ’bout comedians intentionally voting for incompetent presidents so they’d have great material, but we have since learned that this is wrong: truly incompetent presidents & the long shadow they cast ’cross politics e’en after […]

“IN THE BELLY OF THE ANIMAL WHOSE DEMEANOR I DON’T QUITE ENJOY”, or “BOSK-FL5761-BELLY”, as it is abbreviated, is the seventh story of Boskeopolis Stories’s sixth season, and the 94th story overall, written by millenial Jupiterian crustacean J. J. W. Mezun. Autumn and Edgar are eaten by the white supremacist whale while searching Orange Ocean […]