Claude was having an existential crisis.
He’d tried to deny it, but just as Brother Sartre had suggested in a recent penmanship competition, it was becoming clear to the strapping Greco-Roman enthusiast that his life was devoid of meaning, unless he could give it some himself.
But where to look for meaning?
Then Serge put him in a sleeper hold. A delicious, overpowering sleeper, pungent with Russian vodka, sweat, and dare he say, import?
From the Toulouse Le Grandfig collection. Other existential crises seen at Alltop and at thisfunny blog aggregator too.
…Russian vodka, sweat…
Why did I read this before lunch? Now I want cocktails…
Ah, “meaningfulness”. Too bad it faded into the past already, for now -like the future- it does not exist.
Very strange…or, perhaps, a coincidence? You make a post with ‘Beaver’ in the title, and I make a post on Beavers….
I’m a little scared.
I too am frightened. We now have the words “beaver” and “cocktails” in the comments. Not to mention “LOBO”. What evil will Google wrack?