The arrival of Homeless Helper & Womble

I should be working on something right now- maybe mowing the lawn (except it’s too wet), or sweeping the house (except I’m not drunk). But I’d rather not. I’d rather introduce to the world Homeless Helper & Womble, because quite frankly the world needs more Homeless Helper & Womble. Here’s why.

I’ve tried writing deep. The trouble with depth though, oddly enough, it requires two people. The other person is proof that you aren’t falling. If they’re still around, you can talk about anything. Anything at all. The moment you loose sight of them, though, you have only yourself to fall back on.

Now, let’s be certain on this- as a human, you are fully capable of biting your own tongue. It’s one of the few things you can be certain about. There’s no inherent use for the reflex, unless you REALLY think about it, and yet we still occasionally do so by accident. So with that said, you don’t want to be falling back on yourself, in case you miss and drop yourself accidentally.

Homeless Helper & Womble are a safety net, really. If we drop them, they’ll carry on rolling. They can be anything and everything. They could be philosophers or drunkards, the bee’s knees or, indeed, the cat’s pajamas. In their tousled pursuit of impossibility, who cares where they run to next?

P.S. Just to get this out of the way- Homeless Helper & Womble are nicknames/alter-egos/avatars-of-the-semi-transcendental-greater-prairie-chicken, so please for the love of all that is beige do not take them seriously… as that would rather miss the point.





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