A Venery of Noun Collectives
For February 22: Day 53 of the Story-a-Day Challenge

I revel in terms of venery--venereal terms--which in sex means contracted disease--but in nature means "nouns of assembly." As such, I relate to poetic vibes, like a herd of fauna, a bush of flora, or a buffoonery of clowns.
My bible, the 1486 Boke of Seynt Albans, first popularized terms of venery. I consider its wisdom a lobe of cognition.
As such, one of a bevy of beautiful days, I walked on a warmth of sunshine, under a gauze of cottony clouds in a beaucoup of bluesy sky. I passed a silence of the mimes, dodging the flak of dollops from a mess of birds, piercing the flatulate of broke winds, augmented by a choke of smokers.
I recognized the chittering of chirps--not so much song as just a goof of happiness from a charm of hummingbirds, elusive as a cauldron of bats but common as a dazzle of assininity.
My God! I was smack in the middle of a party rally, i.e., a shitload of politics.
Having earlier ticked my uhaul of boxes (murder of crows, parliament of owls, exaltation of larks, and gaggle of geese), I plowed through a squalor of people, grouping them (not groping them) venereally, i.e., noun-collecting.
I recorded observations in a frenzy of St. Albans-like enthusiasm.
At the rally, the first thing I cataloged was a pudge of obese people, a venery term invoking both a pod of whales and fudge (that pudges often pack). A skool of skanks cheered.
From loudspeakers I was assaulted by a dump of demagoguery from a megaphony of loudmouths. Disillusioned, I left the rally, stepping over a souse of drunk conventioneers. At the corner I had to wait for a contrary of "no-right-turn" right-turn turners, driving as a priviligata of imbecilia, in luxury cars.
Impatient, I walked against the light and, like a hole, was quickly surrounded by a donut of cops. Worse, I was humiliated by a laughing maroon of morons acting like a dip of shits.
Even though I hired representation from a letch of lawyers and got off, I still have to do a waste of community hours, supervised by a tomfoolery of harry-dicks, being the gape of assholes they are!
About the Creator
Gerard DiLeo
Retired, not tired. Hippocampus, behave!
Make me rich! https://www.amazon.com/Gerard-DiLeo/e/B00JE6LL2W/
My substrack at https://substack.com/@drdileo
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