The weighted flares were all done up at my expense, even though I was never consulted, beyond a random comment uttered under the breath of someone in a toilet stall on the fifth floor. So, you can imagine how floored I was to discover that a lid had been placed on a container in an infamous parlor prior to a regular period for open discussion. There is a certain kind of trimming which you'll only find in the Far East during Holiday Season. Unfortunately, due to overwhelming demand, I was not to be cut free to pursue other interests in the neofatalogy cubicle. A conviction has circulated through the corridors of power that one of my former supervisors has misappropriated a severance package in order to have influence in a breakaway civilization. They'd prefer to pretend that it was something from a cheap sci-fi treatment of a George Wallington original screenplay. What I know to be true is that a person of meager means has taken control of one of my most trusted intubators. In light of subtle fame issues, all choice has been removed from our view of palliative cognition.
A descent of grace which has been foretold through multiple administrations, is now something which appears through a nightly cascade of dis-assembled table parts. The appearance of a medieval shield in the hands of one so young brings delight to the countenances of all who stand regularly expecting a signal from on high. I can tell by their postures that one or two of them refused to be fooled by the wiles of a master deceiver. If it would help, I can personally escort you into our deluxe crepuscule and see that your every whim is indulged; behind my back, if that's any help. If not, my friend's wife is anticipating at least four try-outs if a dark-haired accuser requires an adjustment. Flexibility is always our watchword. We yearn to participate in the boldest of schemes. When you search through a darkened warehouse for an errant envelope, please try to not give the impression of any desperation on your part. Otherwise, they might come to believe that we once knew each other before the War. No one is winning any prizes for not acting like a jerk, is all I'm trying to say.
We believe in our heart of hearts that the best moment to move into a drought-stricken area is just before a purpose built webbing machine is off-loaded as just another territorial blunder gone wrong. If you want, I could tell my kids that you once approached a sanctified imposter with the idea of having him put a proposal in writing for the benefit of the deaf community at large. You see, they have a hard time understanding why you stood by and seemed to take delight in a rather ungainly trio badmouthing a revered figure in their cohort. And, to be honest, it gave me the willies as well. Going forward, why hasn't anyone hidden behind a steel pole in the middle of the night while you slept peacefully, with no misgivings whatsoever? We think we know the answer to that. It (the answer) doesn't start with a letter. No. It starts with a number. Here's a clue: it's not a number which you've ever liked very much. And with very good reason, if I'm being fair.
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