One More Fact About Fashion Thursday.

"Don't tell us which side you stood that thing under while I peed myself, okay?". I'm whipping through a knifelike trough as I make this last request after speaking with Jill Abrams. I've known her to hold a blanket to a railhead while a pitiful sanitary lock pricks the conscience of a station. The same attitude she brought into the daily struggle is the one we saw opening into a wedge of our toothsome dreamy foothold. 

A lake (Lake Geneva, I think) is worth a thousand vested wands when a discourse ends inconveniently in a surprisingly pleasant convection. We're afraid of the influence you wield on more than one sorry occasion. But first, a taste not unlike benzene engulfs the town in my sick fantasy. Can't—WON'T—get enough. Don't want to. Shouldn't have to. Tries anyway. Seeks solace. Sucks shoelaces. It's his weird yet harmless, what?,... perversion? I never told you that. It was just an assumption that could get you killed in a momentary blunder. I'll protect you until that ladder you covet is a ring of the ghast. 

On the plus side, that ring is just the briefest interruption to my mega-brain results. It speaks for itself. Not enough to hobble a ghost, as per your decision., but an obstacle to your pet obsession nonetheless. We need to pass this on to your holder. We're not referring to former Attorney General Eric Holder, just so you know.


I'll drive by later. Then I'll sell the gun to a Mormon teenager. It should go more smoothly after that. But the name we give to a harmless, if well taken, route, is roundly scorned for all to hear. And hear they won't, but, here they will. Will what? Will cause a sultry provocation at Office Center and then de-camp  to a forest stronghold of the first order. 


The defrocked pastor I told you about during last year's killer snowstorm has hung himself out to dry with the best of them. But it's only the worst of them who're buying it, I'm afraid. Which is why my pleas for a permanent brown-out go unheard. It's a grift pure and simple. But the sneers of a crowd bring with them a certain evocative nonchalance relative to my paltry effort on Fashion Thursday. 

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