They say that variety is the spice of life. They also say that laughter is the best medicine. So tonight, I'm cooking up some laughter. They say a great chef can cook anything from the simplest ingredients. Tonight's Dinner: Laughter, a medicinal affair. (In all honesty people, I'm totally winging it. So, let's make some laughter!) I think of laughter as warmth. It'll probably be of silly and rye. Most of my friends will say that it would be dry. It could be of liquid and far out in space. I wonder if I could give it a face. The insides would sparkle of glimmer and fireworks. The frame work of which would be sunshine and fishhooks. We'd lay in our hammocks and roll with the punches. Our fathers would gather and eat all their lunches. We'd sit by the pool and open the pop. Our minds would be dusted with mindful entertainment. Our souls would be submerged in ice cream basements. The taste of vanilla and sweet would be in the air. And sometimes the chicory would be too much to bare. With my coffee in hand and my other in motion, the waves of salt would cause some with emotion. The slap stick of knees would buckle under consent. My peers would be seeking the laws of repent. I'd wipe all the tears from my squinting eyes. I might even go catch some fireflies. The nights would be dark and full of despair, but the cackle of wisdom would be something to share. The purring of cats and the barking of dogs. The smell of the fresh as we cut into logs. I'd swear by the hair on my chiny, chiny chin that the silence of sunrise would warm us within. My shirt is now off and I must confess, that a bottle of laughter would cost quit a guess. There would be no price and pay for the right, while others would fuss and cause such a sight. The honey would stick to the bears fat cheeks and the world would be better with Pooh's by our feet. I'd cry out for embrace and fall to my knees, only to find out that laughter said "Please."
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