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Showing posts from January 13, 2017

Any epiphany where sorry is a hard man.

"At first there's the bird house. Then there's a bee's hive and a short mountain. After that are two gas stations and an exam with many questions about, Poo."
"Poo?"
"Poo."
The chambers and the swivel chairs above the street are all empty, He-Man's gone home for the night. The Masters-at-Arms are waiting with the old clowns and the other wig police down the way. The pills are bright, there's a few on the table. They're in a lumpy bag. The word, vote has been printed on the side of it in blue with four bright stars.
"Lumpy bag of polished toads is more like it," The Masters-at-Arms grumbles from his stool.
"That's what's passing for goodly wig to wig talk these days," I mutter along silently while breathing in and breathing out. "The city has no qualms watching us as we go about our tiny spider-business. Cast a wide enough net and they might even find one of them unicorns with an eyepatch or a devi…