A Remarkable Episode Wherein Paralyzed Hands Play a Pivotal Role.

Thinking ahead to the sense of undulating motion that would likely prevail in the dear future, she sighed and wiped a small drop of troublesome fluid from somewhere between her mid-calf and the position she held while watching a mediocre boxing match on PayPerView. It always troubled her late husband Casper Flagella, to give her eyebrow a good pinch with only therapeutic intentions. These were times of 'riling', of course, but a speedy sense of delight still shone through her boxy way of addressing the addled  malcontents  whose continued existence would prove so determinedly troublesome.

After the third episode I gave her the type of 'talking to' that only a feared yet trusted stranger could accomplish. She nodded seductively but I knew it was just one more ruse in a long line of trendy nape-creepening betrayals. Nonetheless I spoke forthrightly (if sporadically), adjusted my tie and set her house on fire. This was where things started to get ugly, but I still had hope. Since my artificial duodenum implant was scheduled for the 3rd of May, there really wasn't any choice.

At about six the following morning I received a call from her estranged third false husband informing me of a crucial document that had survived the blaze. I bit my  lip so as not to blurt out some uncomfortable truths and keep my powder dry, so to speak. The sparks that flew during that frankly ugly exchange were enough to curl the hair of even the most manly of soft-hearted peons. When I think back and try to remember where I was 'coming from' in those days only one thing stands out: the time I gave her a ride to County General and forgot to urinate before leaving. This led to a tricky situation. The perfume I kept in the trunk was of no use since my hands were now officially paralyzed. I remembered that my favorite baseball player, Bobby Murcer, had suffered a stroke in his mid-fifties. Having said that, it's important for me to acknowledge that I've never been a fan of Pete Seeger's folk songs, though I realize he had 'good intentions'. What is it they say about those kind of intentions and road paving technology? You get the idea, or maybe not. Try to come to some decision. It's important. You'll see. 

For anyone who is reading-challenged, this diagram summarizes the entire post.