Salt bomb

I'm reading this novel with a character named Olive in it, and every time I read the name Olive, I instantly want to eat some olives. The problem is, Olive plays a pretty significant role in the novel, and I have the willpower of a slobbering dog in the refrigeration facilities of a third-world morgue during a brownout.

Me : olives :: ravening dog : putrefied corpses

This one's almost too easy. Almost. Shooting fish, but, as the man said, I don't see nothing wrong with a little bump and grind. Click to embiggen.


Dina said...

you're outta control, tye. but you will open these books much later in your life and chuckle with more gusto than you are now, but for different reasons.

D said...

I actually think about this often. I'm considering selling back all of my Henry James novels -- which is something I never do -- just so somebody else can resent my handiwork. But I do like the idea of the old man me laughing at myself with gusto, and then, like, "oh la la" by the Faces fades in and it's like "I wish... that... I knew what I know now..." and then I start dancing with Miss Cross. She's a babe.