The Vrzhu wheels are in need of some front end alignment at the moment. Our regular Tuesday update is sadly behind, still but a tattered kerchief of dust kicked up by the approaching Vrzhu Express rider just at the horizon.
What is in his saddlebags? Perhaps the Governor’s pardon for a vagrant zen master wandering the high chapparel and arrested on trumped up charges for a hangin’ offense.
Or that sulfa drug for the littlest McCoy out on the ranch a-sweatin’ and a-burnin’ up with the horny toad fever.
Or that letter to Joey Sue from Colonel Jimmy Hortense – he’s a-comin’ home from the war. Joey looks out the rain-streaked window of his little prairie yurt, a single tear of joy trickles down his cheek. Little does he know that Jimmy H. will be coming home. . . .half a man!
Anyway, I’ll get this post up on the lift and give it a good safety check and she’ll be good as new by tomorrow, or Thursday.
NaPoWriMo - a partial entry
These Shoes Suck. These Shoes Rule.
We took the tour of the Kevlar aftermath,
where the rubber meets the schizophrenia,
Citizen, you’ll pay the price for our fear.