Another Sick Excuse!

 

I was promenading through a grown person's demi-detached compound, sporting my favorite Woxperth Chemise, when I happened to notice an arrangement unfolding on a nearby ridge, just out of view from the prominent party of four on whose behalf these details were enriched in the first place. In the second place, one should try very hard to utilize a fully equipped facility, if for no other reason than the person might risk being spoken to, of, within or behind, without first seeking a firm grounding in fundamental truths. I find, though, that this bothers me less than I was warned might be the case. Their smallest son happens to have sought my care after I made it known that I was well regarded in the Christian Community of Tobasco Village, Ohio.

That was when I threw all my final blanking shifts into a lazy pile to gauge the reaction of a hedge fund director to whom I'd given my word to never speak of his wife without her explicit written permission. It came about when she insisted on needling me about my semi-luxuriant coiffure and insisted on confusing me one too many times with a backfielder from weeks ago in spite of the fact that my age and height didn't quite fit the facts of the case. I once knew a landowner who I'd seen walking in a neighbor's scraggly yard. He'd put up the seed money to have my son arrested for aggravated depravity and had seen to it that I'd never walk alone inside my private quarters again. We insisted on drifting through space without ever having given a thought to commonsense precautions. This includes wires, stoppers, padding and strong points. You could say that we thought (mistakenly) that we were still young. It's possible that you might consider saying something else as well. It's your call 

If any one of us had given thought to the possibility, I, for one, was never made aware of it, much to my ongoing detriment. They'll press you length-wise into a gradual compartment and still expect to you to scrounge your way to the very beginning without anyone offering so much as a 'Hang tough, Mister!'. And only those who are blind to the psychological whiplash inherent in pending seizure operations could think to stop offering people in my ring an iota of pressure release when things come to a sterling position. They'll ask you for a cigarette (even though you've never smoked), look you straight in the eye and pronounce you fit for a wonderful exchange. This could take some getting used to. If, however, we've attached ourselves to a master agreement, any built-in passions will release us with a drum and a roll. The tilt of my jib will communicate a mildness which never expects even a wan recusal. This can't be like anyone else's emolument claw. It lacks the chartered signature of 'Lady Luck'. Now you know we'll give you a caring gesture featuring the tiniest hint of perfidy. Please know also that you are welcome anytime, as long as she arrives first. It helps to string some of the items along a wall. Flurmp.

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