Life-Lessons Learned on the Battlefield of Contemporary Existence.

 

The saving grace is—and was!—that my feet, normally used to walking on the eggshells of modern social conventionalism, have attained a hard-won anchoring that only rank stolidity can provide. Three prior children of my fourth wife have duly arrived and have the run of the place which they've so long sought to deny. I can't say that I mind hearing them out. The vestibule sounds like a nice spot. I'll happily arrange to help them go over some of the pre-scripted remarks so that no one can say that they 'just made it all up'. That's just the kind of thing which some temporary health officer could be counted upon to blurt out, as if out of nowhere at all. The funny thing is, he never struck me either on the head or the arms, even if I thought nothing of breaching a contact flow. The availability of edible materials is never far from our thinking process. Someone whose opinion often gains parallel access wants it known that his flavor preferences run to the decidedly 'mild'. This shouldn't make him an object of scorn even as he goes about seeking redress in a haplessly forlorn manner.

Now the children are arrayed in a half-circle between Partitions 7 and 9 (the odd numbers encode signals from the Western periphery). Normally I prefer to go from one to the other, but on this night, as on all others, I have them taken at face value, if nothing else. They can be depended upon to redirect their innate fury at the one person whose bona fides will, in all likelihood, never effect the state of play. For my part, I can't understand what role I'm meant to play in the ongoing discussion. If the specialist requires that I cough into a marked linen sack, then so be it. If, however, someone is so bold as to make our asking price an object of rank vituperation, there will be no alternative but to inquire as to the national standard which he maintains at height in our corner grove. A person of his ilk will be given all the time he needs to feel settled. The shoes will be offered in consolation. If he becomes moist in return, I will see to it that his list is settled before injuries are sustained in the medium term. Here we mean minor scrapes and bruises, nothing more.

How have we not let the Bastion get the better of us in the foregoing eras? Anyone is privileged to guess color schemes and guiding principles. But, if they determine that one of our embattled former appointees is to be given the shortest of shrifts, then we're all but certain to detect barely muffled sobs during a post-prandial dunking session. Because, you know what? That's just what we'd expect you to say if you were held to task in a barely willowy pilot-beam. They've all but wrecked our expectation of leaving Stage 3 before someone gets violently ill. I can't tell if they've had too many ribbons applied. Some say that they can smell the difference. There's one thing you need to remember: that's a damnable lie! Mis-statements have a 'funny' way of becoming the Gospel Truth in this Ministry and Pastor Joe could use your help putting out this latest fire. Are you on board with our most secure stranglehold? Or, can we count you as 'black-pilled without context'? It won't suit our plans to have you snuffed out for good. That will be followed by a relaxing dinner on the Veranda. Please say you can't make it. It would be a real shame. Not sorry.

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