A brick could be used to satisfy your hunger—and satisfy my curiosity.


A brick could be translated into Spanish, and then used to landscape a lawn.


I am the Magic Chicken of Desire. Just add water. And a brick and a blanket.


A blanket really makes the bed. Good thing too, because I never make the bed.


A brick could be used to soften resistance. Smash the opposition into a pulp!


A brick could be locked in a safe, because nobody will try to steal it there.


A blanket could be used to stop a war, particularly if that war is a Cold War. 


A brick is slow, when it’s lying on the floor. But fast when just thrown.


Sleep with family is a napkin (nap plus kin), and I used a napkin as a blanket.


A brick could be used like sandpaper, to smooth out a cat’s rough tongue.


A brick could be pet, like a dog, and taught to shit in my neighbor's yard.


If you don't fall down now and again, it just means the training wheels are working

A huge meringue with polio who drives everywhere in a beautifully restored Hillman Imp.

A blanket could be used to what the hell your way out of your neighbor’s bedroom.

A brick could be used to build a house—or destroy it, one window at a time.