Lumpy Quotes

Authors: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Categories: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
where-do-you-get-lumpy-tiles-well-course-you-dont-but-i-get-lot-toilets-you-just-dispatch-toilet-with-hammer-then-you-have-lumpy-tiles
the-roses-have-wilted-the-violets-are-dead-sugar-is-lumpy-and-so-is-your-head
grass-is-hard-lumpy-damp-full-dreadful-black-insects-oscar-wilde
ships-are-strange-kind-commodity-because-theyre-lumpy-big-individual-units-but-theyre-commodities-wilbur-ross
switzerland-is-simply-large-lumpy-solid-rock-with-thin-skin-grass-stretched-over-it-mark-twain
i-watch-his-hands-theyre-lumpy-but-clever-is-there-word-for-adults-when-they-arent-parents-steppa-laughs-folks-with-other-things-to-do-emma-donoghue
lumpy-lazy-i-aspired-to-lethargy-in-second-year-university-i-missed-half-my-classes-just-because-i-couldnt-pull-myself-out-bed
the-phlegamtic-female-is-weepy-bugeyed-fat-lumpy-fleshy-german-she-looks-like-sack-flour-she-is-born-in-order-to-become-motherinlaw-that-is-her-whole-ambition-anton-chekhov
im-sentimental-about-many-things-lumpy-feel-babys-unused-feet-metallic-smell-air-before-first-snow-last-scene-in-its-wonderful-life-but-valentines-day-leaves-me-cold
the-most-chronic-heart-disease-is-caused-by-having-greediness-in-your-heart-go-for-check-ups-regularly-learn-how-to-swallow-those-lumpy-pills-generousity-be-kind-be-healthy-israe
i-lurve-you-circus-freak-cabel-says-it-almost-hurts-to-hear-him-say-that-i-lurve-you-too-you-big-lumpy-monster-man-janie-says-that-hurts-even-more-to-lisa-mcmann
when-i-went-to-hollywood-in-1927-girls-were-wearing-lumpy-sweaters-skirts-i-was-wearing-sleek-suits-half-naked-beaded-gowns-piles-piles-furs-louise-brooks
life-is-lumpy-and-lump-in-oatmeal-lump-in-throat-lump-in-breast-are-not-same-lump-one-should-learn-difference-robert-fulghum
Just above Tommy's face were the Maiden and the Troll, two of his oldest wall people. The troll lived in a cave deep in the woods. He was big (Tommy knew the troll was even bigger than his daddy, and if the troll told his daddy to sit down and shut up, he would in a second), and he looked scary, with his little eyes and crooked teeth like fangs, but he had a secret. The secret was that he wasn't scary at all. He liked to read, and play chess by mail with a gnome from over by the closet wall, and he never killed anything. The troll was a good troll, but everyone judged him by his looks. And that, Tommy knew, was a mean thing to do, though everyone did it. The maiden was very beautiful. Even more beautiful than Tommy's mommy. She had long blonde hair that fell in heavy curls to her waist, and big blue eyes, and she always smiled even though her family was poor. She came into the woods near the troll's cave to get water from a spring, for her family. The spring bubbled out of Tommy's wall right next to where his hand lay when he was asleep. Sometimes she only came and filled her jug and left. But other times she would sit awhile, and sing songs of love lost, and sailing ships, and the kings and queens of Elfland. And the troll, so hideous and so kind, would listen to her soft voice from the shadows just inside the entrance of his cave, which sat just below the shelf where Tommy kept his favorite toys and books. Tommy felt bad for the troll. He loved the maiden who came to his spring, but she would never love him. He knew from listening to his parents and the stuff they watched on television when he was supposed to be asleep that beautiful people didn't love ugly people. Ugly people were either to laugh at or to be frightened of. That was how the whole world worked. Tommy rolled over on his side, just a small seven year old boy in tan cargo shorts and a plain white T-shirt. He let his eyes drift over the bedroom wall, which was lumpy in some places and just gone in others. There was a part of the wall down near the floor where he could see the yellow light of the naked bulb down in the basement, and sometimes he wondered what might live down there. Nothing good, of that he was sure.

Michael Kanuckel
just-above-tommys-face-were-maiden-troll-two-his-oldest-wall-people-the-troll-lived-in-cave-deep-in-woods-he-was-big-tommy-knew-troll-was-even-bigger-than-his-daddy-if-troll-told
Things I Used to Get Hit For: Talking back. Being smart. Acting stupid. Not listening. Not answering the first time. Not doing what I'm told. Not doing it the second time I'm told. Running, jumping, yelling, laughing, falling down, skipping stairs, lying in the snow, rolling in the grass, playing in the dirt, walking in mud, not wiping my feet, not taking my shoes off. Sliding down the banister, acting like a wild Indian in the hallway. Making a mess and leaving it. Pissing my pants, just a little. Peeing the bed, hardly at all. Sleeping with a butter knife under my pillow. Shitting the bed because I was sick and it just ran out of me, but still my fault because I'm old enough to know better. Saying shit instead of crap or poop or number two. Not knowing better. Knowing something and doing it wrong anyway. Lying. Not confessing the truth even when I don't know it. Telling white lies, even little ones, because fibbing isn't fooling and not the least bit funny. Laughing at anything that's not funny, especially cripples and retards. Covering up my white lies with more lies, black lies. Not coming the exact second I'm called. Getting out of bed too early, sometimes before the birds, and turning on the TV, which is one reason the picture tube died. Wearing out the cheap plastic hole on the channel selector by turning it so fast it sounds like a machine gun. Playing flip-and-catch with the TV's volume button then losing it down the hole next to the radiator pipe. Vomiting. Gagging like I'm going to vomit. Saying puke instead of vomit. Throwing up anyplace but in the toilet or in a designated throw-up bucket. Using scissors on my hair. Cutting Kelly's doll's hair really short. Pinching Kelly. Punching Kelly even though she kicked me first. Tickling her too hard. Taking food without asking. Eating sugar from the sugar bowl. Not sharing. Not remembering to say please and thank you. Mumbling like an idiot. Using the emergency flashlight to read a comic book in bed because batteries don't grow on trees. Splashing in puddles, even the puddles I don't see until it's too late. Giving my mother's good rhinestone earrings to the teacher for Valentine's Day. Splashing in the bathtub and getting the floor wet. Using the good towels. Leaving the good towels on the floor, though sometimes they fall all by themselves. Eating crackers in bed. Staining my shirt, tearing the knee in my pants, ruining my good clothes. Not changing into old clothes that don't fit the minute I get home. Wasting food. Not eating everything on my plate. Hiding lumpy mashed potatoes and butternut squash and rubbery string beans or any food I don't like under the vinyl seat cushions Mom bought for the wooden kitchen chairs. Leaving the butter dish out in summer and ruining the tablecloth. Making bubbles in my milk. Using a straw like a pee shooter. Throwing tooth picks at my sister. Wasting toothpicks and glue making junky little things that no one wants. School papers. Notes from the teacher. Report cards. Whispering in church. Sleeping in church. Notes from the assistant principal. Being late for anything. Walking out of Woolworth's eating a candy bar I didn't pay for. Riding my bike in the street. Leaving my bike out in the rain. Getting my bike stolen while visiting Grandpa Rudy at the hospital because I didn't put a lock on it. Not washing my feet. Spitting. Getting a nosebleed in church. Embarrassing my mother in any way, anywhere, anytime, especially in public. Being a jerk. Acting shy. Being impolite. Forgetting what good manners are for. Being alive in all the wrong places with all the wrong people at all the wrong times.

Bob Thurber
things-i-used-to-get-hit-for-talking-back-being-smart-acting-stupid-not-listening-not-answering-first-time-not-doing-what-im-told-not-doing-it-second-time-im-told-running-jumping
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