today's the day that little green men come out from under their toadstools to fill their mugs with suds and to pull bank heists and to offer to execute their own in exchange for good press.
i went into the stumptown cafe on belmont street and saw a sin fein chap looking as glum as an
empty flask of rum. i attributed his countenance to the dismal sunlight wreaking havoc on the
eyelids of all those cloversmoking hooligans he aligns with.
lewi was rubbing the guitars out of his eyes and the chord changes made rainbows over the pots
of bold coffee that were in grubby vogue.
i had unseemly business to attend to. i slupped my cup till i quivered out the door, and quoth the
fashion maven: foreverandevermore.
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