A person often mistakenly thought to be one of the younger members sits on the southern corner of the moistened planchette that was installed in this room not too long ago. He thinks, more often than not, in a rhyming pattern, but for some reason today this tendency is nowhere to be found. In fact, for the moment he is concerned with an obnoxiously fading silhouette occupying the eastern breach opposite a window whose placement was vigorously opposed by several non-aligned factions. The grief which usually flounces upon his pearly countenance has transformed into an icy intransigence. Why? Because he has made it known to those in charge of such matters that certain foods do not agree with his phystein memory profiles. They cause him to question which story he's prepared to stick with. Some say it's for the best but assurance is in short supply in these matters. So naturally we consider having him eliminated in the most comfortable way that's doable within accepted budgetary parameters. Chloroform on a hankie?
Even though I offered one or more caveats—to no avail, as ever—it was decided to induct several of our local 'goons-for-hire' to extract his recently abandoned vehicle, a 2013 Chevy Malibu, from Choclateer's Ravine that bisects the Western Field where he mistakenly thought it would arouse neither suspicion nor remorse. I've been holding a collection of his photographs inside a faux pearl embalming pellet. This fact alone should ensure my safety should the lesser streets fall to the jurisdiction of the 'chosen few'. In the years since total blindness took its inevitable toll, regret at having never seen the matched sets of images has been my constant companion in the moments between implacable catastrophes. This is why I'm issuing a call for descriptive documents to be submitted into my opulent intake maw.
Now, when or about the thirteenth extension, more than a few are guaranteed to notice a pattern to the rides they claim to enjoy. The brace which we believe they use for leverage in a French sort of way, only serves to gull the opponents of progress. Now they even carry a cartridge. This may not end well.
He now, ever so slowly, moves his right hand from mid-thigh toward the knee. This is his signal, or at least the signal that was previously agreed upon, to request a curtain to be withdrawn from an antique shield. He doesn't know it, but the shield is, in fact, made of plaster and was used in a local high school production of Rambo. If he's told, it will set him off. Even after daily inspection, it's not certain that his hair system is not apt to explode. There is a cup of liquid in the niche in the hallway just to the right of the door. You might consider if you've thought of that before. If not, please re-read the manual. It's for your own protection.
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