I Want The Biggest Horns Money Can Buy

I've been digging a hole for quite a while now, it's now as deep as three men my size, maybe four. Sometime I ask my friends to come over to help me dig it, but in all honesty I prefer to dig alone. I like the satisfaction you get when you accomplished something by yourself, be it a task as menial as digging a hole. Although yesterday Goldie Hawn came over and helped me dig. We talked about the clouds and drank pink lemonade. Then we took off our tops in the heat, and started to dig some more. She tied back her wavy long blonde hair because it kept getting in her face. I let Goldie use the nice shovel that I had bought earlier that week, once I had realised how deep I planned to go. I instead used my father shovel. It had a broken handle and the black paint on the wooden shaft was peeling. I couldn't let Goldie use that could I, what would she have thought of me? By mid afternoon Goldie had left, she had to get home to start dinner. I was left alone once again to carry on digging. Usually I stop by eight thirty at night, but for some reason that day I did not feel tired, and carried on well into the night. I think this will hole will be my grave, it's the right sort of size. I don't want to buried laying on my back, I want to be stood up, in a proud sort of manner. When I'm finished digging, I think it would be best to bury something in my hole. To prove how deep I got. A photo perhaps, or some milk teeth. So everyone knows that it was my hole.

Rick Springfield - Jessie's Girl

Photo of Francis Albert Sinatra taken by Bergen County, New Jersey police force in 1938 on his arrest for seduction of and the act of adultery with a married woman. No Copyright infringement intended.