🚀 go-pugleaf

>                                        Jesus Christ, what's happened
>to your BRAIN, boy?

Er, am I wrong, or isn't it half-coating in a slightly crusted state
the side of the men's room stall where it was blown out?  Sorry I only
got half of it out, that's Tim's fault; he still hasn't figured out
how to use the McUzi to full effect, and I had to enlist his help,
even unwittingly.  (The Colonel remains at large.)

Dazzle you with pyrotechnics?  Oh, no, terribly sorry, you must have
me confused with someone who's more exacting about having the t's
crossed.  I merely wished to relate What I Did On My Flurry Of A
Vac(Ill)ation.  Your reading things into it, dear boy.  That part
about my leaving basalt in yr basement was not really in the original.
You need a rest, Willy.  Here, lie down, I'll just fold these straps
over like this so you don't worry about falling out of bed.  Comfy?
Good, I hope so.  We like it like that.

[Aside: having failed in my singular charge (out on Everclear) to
obtain an autographed photo of alp in the stance of a Folk Star, the
blue guitar straddling his lotus-folded locust limbs, I wonder if you
think I could send her y'know HER a photo of Link Wray instead and
if she'd notice the substitution.]

All proceeds to go to your favorite churlish wonder.  (Hey, Willy:
y'wanna see me ... bunt?)

urk.