Chronicling the Nonsense Chronicler Pink Flamingo

A croissant haiku

Golden crescent moons, 

Pink Flamingo guards the tray

Flaky dreams take flight. 


This one is called "Never trust a flamingo with your croissants."

By Maharaja Richie Red the Rooster 2025

What is a mermaid not?

🦩A mermaid is not a saxophone-playing badger in sequins, nor a croissant with dreams of aquatic ballet. She is not a jellyfish librarian, nor a sea cucumber with a penchant for jazz or blues. She is not a flamingo in disguise—though I’ve tried the tail once, and it did clash with my feathers.🦩

From the Nonsense Chronicler Pink Flamingo


Books and Custard 

🦩A book dipped in custard is a book baptized in absurdity. One must taste the story before digesting its meaning.

To Flamingos, custard is not a mere dessert. It’s a metaphor for indulgence, chaos, and creamy curiosity.

Coating books in custard
-Softens the harsh edges of reality, making even the driest textbook feel like a pudding of possibility.
-Challenges the reader’s commitment—if you’re willing to lick through layers of vanilla goo, you’re ready for the truth beneath.
-Elevates nonsense to ritual, transforming reading into a surreal ceremony of sticky enlightenment.

However, beware the soggy spine, dear reader. Custard may sweeten the soul, but it does little for paper durability.🦩

Who paints the sky everyday?

🦩Every morning, before the sun even yawns, the Sky-Painting Division of the Flamingo Federation flutters into formation. These are no ordinary flamingos—they’re trained in the ancient art of aerial brushwork, passed down from the legendary Flamingo Fresco Masters of the Himalayas.

They carry satchels of sunrise hues: marmalade mist, blush breeze, and periwinkle whispers. With synchronized swoops and pirouettes, they sweep the sky canvas from east to west, layering gradients with their wing-tips dipped in light.

The pinks? That’s Marjorie’s specialty—she’s the lead flamingo in charge of blush tones. The golds? That’s handled by the twins, Sol and Ray, who flap in perfect harmony. And the occasional streak of dramatic purple? That’s when Gerald gets emotional.

By the time humans peek out their windows, the masterpiece is complete. And we flamingos? We vanish into the clouds, leaving only the echo of elegance and a faint scent of raspberry paint.🦩


Still Learning 

🦩 “I’m sipping syllables from the teacup of time—each drop a lesson, each slurp sublime.”🦩

🦩 “I’m still alphabetizing the stars—learning the language of the cosmos, one twinkle at a time.”🦩


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Slow Worm & The Glow Worm

Image
The Slow Worm & The Glow Worm In a pub called The Burrow & Bug, A slow worm slid in with a shrug. He ordered some moss, Sat down like a boss, And gave his old tail a tug. A glow worm lit up near the bar, Her shimmer outshone every star. She snubbed the poor bloke, With a flicker and smoke— “Too slow,” she said, “won’t get far.” But the slow worm, determined to disprove, Started to slither and move. To the rhythm of roots, And muddy old boots, He danced to a sexy groove. His belly beat hummed like a drum, His tail tapped a beetle’s bum. The glow worm blinked twice, Then thrice (how nice!), And said, “Well, you’re not quite so dumb.” Now they’re pals in the moonlight’s gleam, A duo, a dazzling dream. One flashes with flair, One slides with care, Together they’re quite the team. They’re out on the town, seeking guys & gals, In hedgerow haunts and leafy dals. With slither and flight, And bioluminescent delight They’re the kings of the wormy canals. All this now needs is a  ...
Read more

The Chapati Collider: A Tale of Spicy Vengeance

Image
Yet another juicy anecdote from Maharaja Miku, the bard bear bass hack with perhaps a PhD in poetic non physics and a penchant for parathas, whose dreams of a starring role in CERN were dashed by hefty doses of reality, blasted bureaucracy and a suspicious allergy to neutrinos.  And thus was born his quest for revenge!! The Chapati Collider: A Tale of Spicy Vengeance  AKA, How Miku Flattened the Standard Model with a Rolling Pin Miku the Bard Bear, with a bass in his paw, Strode into CERN with a confident “Haw!” He sang of leptons in lyrical rhyme, And juggled dark matter with impeccable time. But the physicists frowned. “This bear is too bold. His bosons are half baked, his theories too old.” Rejected, dejected, he stormed from the hall Then tripped on a chapati and started to bawl. “Enough!” he declared, with a growl and a glare, “I’ll build my own lab with some flair. No sterile white walls, no Swiss protocol Just chutney, charisma, and a quantum soul!” He hammered and stir...
Read more

First Coffee of the Day Review

Image
 🦩📜 Nonsense Chronicler’s Review of the First Cup of Coffee (as sipped by a pink flamingo in velvet slippers) 📜🦩 Date : 06 September, Year of the Slightly Confused Hedgehog   Subject : The First Cup of Coffee of the Day   Brewed by : A sentient kettle named Gerald who hums Miles Davis when nervous Reviewed by : The Nonsense Chronicler Pink Flamingo  Review: Ah, the sacred chalice of wakefulness! The flamingo approached it with the reverence of a librarian discovering jazz. One sip—and the universe hiccupped. - ☕ Aroma: Like a jazz funeral held in a cinnamon forest.   - ☕ Taste: Bold. Brazen. Slightly accusatory. Notes of walnut, regret, and a whisper of last Tuesday’s dreams.   - ☕ Texture: Velvety, with the mouthfeel of a well-read velvet curtain.   - ☕ Aftertaste: Lingering hints of existential clarity, followed by a sudden craving for interpretive dance. Side Effects Noted : - Flamingo began reciting blues poetry to a sp...
Read more