Donald Jerkins: Summary Findings.

 

Donald Jerkins enjoys manipulating other people's expectations so that when remote leisure enters the picture, he feels a deep certainty that any other face will enjoy equal protection. When sitting on location near a partially burnt household totem, he dreams of one day performing an amateurish subdominal procedure without the benefit of artificial lighting. This arouses a latent glow in one who hovers in the distance hoping (without any reasonable way forward) to issue a terse denial to all who have given Donald advice in the personal growth domain.

By turns loquacious and subtly refractive, Jerkins scrapes the bottom without indulging in vacant self-recriminations. This strikes some folks as odd, but others use the time which has now been released to seek closure in an abandoned Fallcraft shelter. With one hand he pretends to make a feeble gesture of allocation while with the other, curled into a limpid fist as it is, he displays colorful novaks which timorous eunuchs seek to dispel. Eventually this may lead weaker members to make questionable comments to newly released pickaninnies. Some of the names have been forgotten, others are to be heard from the mouths of flaccid strangers.

Once the last list has been delivered into the girl's hot hands, a muffled sigh is all that escapes the singular presence of a trusted bromad. Now we learn that the girl has escaped vetting and 'gone rogue' in the process. She'll sashay into a medical office bragging about a feudal inheritance, invite a beleaguered grifter into a dark alliance and then move to the other side of the country without so much as plugging into the nativist petrie dish writ large. This is what causes some of us to move to a different side of a room we've already occupied, not that anyone's entitled to feel comfortable with my personally improvised arrangement of molecular portents. The word is shot. Is anyone asking you?

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