that fit in my life I can let go for your revolution

I had to dig out my stapler the other day so I could mail the French Monkey and get it off my back (my application for the dear internship). It was in a little baggy and I just noticed that on the bag there is some kind of list written.

Cincinnati
Fire Kites
Equipment
Not including
Newspaper

I know I write ridiculous poems....
But I don't know where this list or whatever it is came from.
And it's in my handwriting.
Isn't that the mark of a genius? Or maybe someone who's been ruffied.

Sad but remarkable news, dear folks. Today I arrived at the grill only to hear the story that apparently last week the Onion-cutter told my Boss he quit. He didn't tell his parents. They dropped him off to work today, he walked in the front door, out the back and onto campus. He has decided to become a university student and take cooking classes to learn to become a chef.
A student found him and took him to a cooking class and the professor let him stay. Luckily, Onion-cutter was wearing his uniform, so the student came down to the grill and alerted us.
I am inspired by his ambition.
But Onion-cutter does mean to quit and that is the sad part. Who else is going to think my jokes are funny and elbow me in the side? Who, now, is going to hear me updating our overseeing Grandmother on my life and then tell me "Good job" with a thumbs up?
Who is going to dance to My Sharona?