a vestige of thought...

Any powers of speech that I once had are slowly leaving me. I'm developing a grand talent for mixing up words. Observe:

"Scott didn't really have breakfast this morning. He just had some frosted wini-meats in the car."
This led Scott to believe that he was really eating Pooh Bear.

"Why do the moments that most require speech leave the blain breakest?"
At this particular moment, speech was no longer required, as laughter broke the akward silence that words didn't.