Some stories come pouring out of you like a garbage plate after a two day bender. Some have to be...

Some stories come pouring out of you like a garbage plate after a two day bender. Some have to be pried out of your brain, one word at a time. Working on one of the latter right now. Hoping to finish before the sun turns into a tiny black cinder in the sky and the earth is buried under a mile of frozen nitrogen.