Vomit and Gargoyles: A brief introduction

In an effort to bring in more attention than my usual tantrums I have begun this public display of thoughts. This is no ordinary display, oh wait, yes it is. And I am no ordinary girl. I am of the international breed, which means that almost anywhere I go is home. It also means that I get a lot of strange glances because I pee on whatever I consider to be my territory. My only friend is a Ziploc bag filled with jumping beans that I won after singing Pasty Cline at an all you can eat hot dog contest. This was not a prize for the actual contest but rather a motivation to discontinue the contest as I am allergic to hot dogs and proceeded to vomit after every bite. I like to spend the majority of my time peeling skin off of rotting fruit and pasting them to my ongoing collage titled: 'the age of fruit; the end of man.' Evenings find me roaming the streets in search of gargoyles that hunt small pets. I am not missing pets but I do have suggestions for the gargoyles. I am trying to convince them to carry off a small young punk that lives on my street and periodically refers to me with profanity when we cross paths. The gargoyles have yet to respond to my messages spelled out with Christmas lights.