Sunday, December 12, 2004

I'll make this damn thing sing someday soon.
Brush off the eight-legged-non-insect-non-animal webs.
Sputter and sob at some future tick of the clock.
Yes, yes, yes.
Don't you believe me, Darleen?
We'll float off this stinky island wearing stylish belts, by Odin!
I need a date for the prom.

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