Twinkling doghouse
The bricks turned inside out and glared back at the taint of the world. The shoebox of love had accrued too many misundestandings and became the batman high top converse, gingerly stepping down the steps into the basement where the bats played poker and considered themselves reasonable. But the motivation was as simple and obvious as the leathery batwings at their sides and had nothing to do with the happy faces at WalMart. So while the mascara manufacturers scooped up buckets of guano and sent it off in stylish supertankers to be mixed with perfume and sold at cosmetic counters worldwide, the obvious is not only ignored, but actively refuted in the face of simple batwings.
The gears of automata continued to grind away at Turings behest, but they were bored as shit and longed for a clearer vision, cupcakes and vats of the finest extra virgin wheatgrass juices. At least the terminus was known to be around the corner, so the monotone ca-chunk echoed down tinshelled halls with a purpose known only to cogs of a similar diminutive nature.
That's where Edsel came in. Ed with his band of squeamish proctologists began dancing around the corporate reports, eschewing the meat of the issue that assignments couldn't possibly support the purported goals. But all the indigent slugs knew that the purported goals were merely a smokescreen for something far more requisite: the Bottom Line. Yes, the Almighty Bottom Line in all it's scintilliating titilation, piroetting sirenly in boardrooms all across America.
Meanwhile, little Future and her family of Art, Research, Education and all that liberal crap supported by unreasonable tax brackets simpered and cried in her gruel. Community fractured, society fought among themselves and the land lay low enshrouded in choking brown fog.
Merde De Glace On the Freak When Ski
>>>200 cm Black Bamboo Sidewalled DPS Lotus 120 : Best Skis Ever <<<
Bookmarks