For one so young ... Who goes there?

 

One of the ways which people sometimes use to make their 'worship gestures' appear more febrile by half, is to invite participants to investigate the likelihood that one or more of them will have dodged a circulatory issue before the night is out. At the same time, more than a few of our best lookers seem to forever be holding tightly to a formula which may guarantee that a shipment of age-appropriate parking wads can be thoroughly simulated before any mark-ups are deposited in real time.

From the moment I located the odd tool-and-die operation within my remaining sphere, a virtual stepping stone opened up for all to see, as if that would get us any more 'me time' before the call came tumbling down. No one should count themselves out for the count before either I or my team have had time to involve ourselves ever more deeply in a place you refuse to look. What would it say about someone if they were caught unaware of all the ways their appearance has caused folks to focus their energy on getting out more often? Why would you assume that a person you've only heard about is wondering what sort of a stunt you're going to pull next?

It isn't for nothing that I came out for guided incantations sometime back. I'd read the studies and counted myself as one of the few attorneys in the Tri-County to make myself available for online life coaching even before the Mayor ended up in the hospital after I got hit with a three-pronged assault charge. They took me by force but that didn't mean I'd go quietly. Far from it, in fact. If you had ever gotten to know the people who work on the edge of the loop, you could've saved yourself a boatload of embarrassment when everything was finally revealed. That's why the kid's first name is 'Scott', NOT 'Todd'. It couldn't get any easier if you punched me.

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How does this hurt anyone?

 

Orferd and Landermeade stand with their backs to the window, darning socks, discussing a series of patently false allegations unearthed by a vain crew of eminent backsliders, the likes of which have left most folks on location high and dry. From here we can see that Orferd's hair is mussed. It's clear that he just doesn't give a damn anymore. It's kind of a shame considering what he originally brought to the table. A table for one, I might add. No one's yet been willing to retrace my steps back to last night's fifth frame. Because it was then and there that I first became aware of Lucy Goddard's tendency to flub lines and then throw a tantrum in a way that only she could manage with her eyes closed.

So, what did I do? It might amuse you to know that even my most uptight relatives have sought legal representation in multiple jurisdictions adjacent to Old Tombstone, Nevada. In my capacity as Site Overseer, I trade in a set of loosely defined 'facts'. If you or anyone else knew what was good for you, I wouldn't have to stay up half the night composing my valedictory speech. In a space the size of a gampede hutch we store some smallish tubes which sometimes compromise our inviolate sanctity. By the looks of them, only one other person has taken the time to navigate a precarious, if ephemeral, enigma. And even then, we all had our doubts about the sincerity of her enthusiasm. She appeared especially guilty while in a state of deep, dreamless sleep. I know this because I was privy to her old-fashioned sense of humor. No one ever said I wouldn't amount to anything; look who's laughing now!

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Is this a Cry for Help?

 

The other day I made the acquaintance of a baby in a costume on the front steps of a zoo by any other name. In the time that remained, I made it my business to train a wandering hostess in the arts of subliminal induction. She gave off the redolent odor of gratelessness but I forged ahead nonetheless. In the back of our straw chassis, we customarily carried two out of three carved switches. Each one linked us to a Great Continent. I would fold all my pictures in a way which gave everyone an idea about which conflict would suit them best. By the time we were through, no one felt that they'd received a fair shot at a brighter tomorrow. I knew for a fact, though, that if I followed through on my original buildup, I wouldn't have to go looking under an abandoned pier for a missing widower wearing a drop-dead kimono with an attitude to match. In fact, only a wisenheimer of the first rank would ever consider basking in the approval of those with limited horizontal cognition.

The next time you're in town, if you meet a guy with hazel eyes who speaks with a notably Scottish brogue, could you please ask him where he was on the evening of the 19th at about 2:71 AM Mountain Pacific Time? It's a widely shared opinion around these parts that he might be more forthcoming to the wiles of a traumatized stranger. If, though, he should suddenly lightly touch your wrist (right or left, it makes no difference) and then make a remark about your surprising resemblance to a pariah he once encountered while stacking coal, then it might be best if you move back in with your parents and pick up where you left off all those years ago. I'll be waiting by a bridge in an Oxnard blue sedan. My hair will be thoroughly conditioned, and I'll be carrying a copy of Lord Newton's Oriental Bible in case things get sticky. You can share in whatever I bring back during the next minute or so. If not, there's a place down by the water where they take bonified nutrition very seriously. This has always been a very important part of the overall picture.

In all likelihood, the game will be extended—past sunrise if necessary. I'll see to it that you won't get left behind like the last time. All the bars in my sundrome are rigged to emit lightning-fast accountancies and, even now, each one seems to be pinned to the very moment when you're expected to regain consciousness. If not, then one of my brothers may cast a line on your behalf in the search for a crestfallen debutante. One of these nights, I expect that we'll find your direct lookalike aligned with a malignant equestrian trend. You shouldn't take it to heart, though. Because, if all the playacting has proved anything at all, it's that one of your best chances for redemption is to leak some crucial details in an effort to establish your adamantine credibility with all the naysaying crybabies once and for all. In the interim. would it be okay if we put you down for next Tuesday the 23rd at six? That's the only time we'll be in the office for the next three or four months and we wouldn't want to miss out on a chance to see you take on a person of your own size for, like, the first time ever.

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