Let's have a story, a story of all the things that makes a story the right kind of story, the kind of story that makes you feel and squeal, laugh and cry, la-di-ya-di-ya.



a piece of paper was ripped off the corner, the caution was evaded in the center of the rim, the hair curled under the guitar pick, he felt the end: death, resurrection, whatever, it was in. So across the room they walked, no one watched, cared, or heard. The birthday comes before the anniversary, the glare before the crash, the ring under the penny (the one that was more often heads than tails). rolling loudly and that was a smile, some don' t see the break of gratefulness. Anyway, the hair stood on the cat'ss back, it fell off the fence to go climb a tree. How's that to post to post about something?