One sign, a racing engine and several do-able tasks, complete my
Ridgemont Partners Assignment Fund to-do list. We will be meeting
in a cross-shed perpendicular to my Aunt's house at South and Main
between 2:30 and 3:00 PM. Would you try to be there with a cloth
that is a remnant of the first Civil War battery parchment hand-held
osculator concept? All the chattering Springbots will scold ever more
brusquely the table full of exhausted litigants.
The bees and the bears are assumed to repair to a fifth hallway estate for a libation of 'good goo' and the team of equals receives a face for its covering while Jesus Fox stands astride a gaping rut and mold betides all who fail to enter my penis without a warrant and a muzzle to goad 'the uninvincibles' with a smothered portion of slaves to doubt and feeding. What calls out my own face is one tiny thread or threat and the danger is not real, or as unconvincing as a polymath is able to arrange to make it appear, unless one of us is missing something all too essential to continue breathing what passes for air in this marginal neighborhood.
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