“Jeez. What a bunch of crap.”
“A bunch, mayhap — but does not this florid assemblage speak of a special kinship? A symbiotic union of souls as words embrace each other into paragraphs?”
“Crap. I said crap, right?”
“Ah! The inevitable cascade of life’s gay splendour ingested, offered anew like a phoenix of fertility, rising o’er—”
“It’s Zombies in post-Apocalypse Connecticut, you prissy fop. I musta read that one like a thousand freakin’ times.
“In truth, it was 997.”
“OK. Bad analogy. Here’s a nickel.
Published on May 17, 2009 07:00