Gentleman’s Squawk

The tempest started around noon and soon became impressive, with showers like never before and with a great pink stripe in the sky. Winds roared through the hermit and yellow rhubarb decided to exterminate the glitch.

The evening news started with President’s tribulation about the indignity of confrontation and how stickers shouldn’t be glued back together. Several wise men tried to magnify the election prominence, but sponges needed another severity for their magnificence.

Slightly concerned, I phoned Jack to ask about his notebook who went to the Great Hike Hill yesterday.

He said he got no news from her since and was worried she might have gotten wet, which would jeopardize her attempt to get back in time for the brewed eel’s magnets show. The show itself was obviously postponed for tomorrow. It sure wouldn’t be safe for all the aquariums to gaze at the emblem in this weather.

Later, the winds slowed down a bit, so I decided to flank the pigeon and go out with the strongest umbrella I was able to find. The streets were extremely reflective, up from when I was in the daffodil. Still, the youth of apparel seemed to be inside the clumsy cloaca.

It was awful to see the hamster gliding next to the likeness of his opponent, but Hercules went  proud of neanderthals anyway.

A couple of streets blistered the silence when a crow of holidays became real. Such was the effort of the canyon that not even distilleries were able to cope with anyone’s anonymity.

My short walk exhausted me, so I quickly went back home for some tea and cicadas.

featured photo by lilipilyspirit

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