Awaiting trial

So hold your breath fair reader (I'm referring to the other person who reads this blog besides myself (that's right, I re-read my work and bask in my self-perceived inter-galactical "awesomeness."))

I am actually working out a post in word rather than my usual seat-of-the-wrinkled-trousers approach because it's an involved story and I really want to do it justice. It has to do with the last two email exchanges that served as placeholders for real posts earlier this week. I don't want to do that thing that bad comedians do and say, "Okay, this is going to be really funny." However, I will say that I don't think I've ever laughed as much, or as hard, in a 36 hour period as I did in the last 36 hours.

I swear it'll be done by tomorrow. (sure)

In the interim ("Interim Principal") I will leave you with something from one of my newer projects.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

currently untitled (1st draft)

The well, well, well's run dry, dry, dry. We need more words
for "bitter". That would make things easier. Easier for
phrasing and pleasing. And I ain't been pleased by the current state
of progress. Years ahead of the curve, years behind in the
bend. Take the dividing curtain and split it from
floor to ceiling. Then take out the ceiling.
Never served a goddamn purpose nohow anyways.

No one. No where. Pinches. Punches. Pincers. Lance-ettes.
Sly spots. Perforation in the shape of this soft pulsing.
"I could raise more cats on this farm if the city didn't
have that asinine law."

But it's alright for everyone to skate to their places
of business on sheets of glass. It's all a gas, gassed out,
too many motorcycle hill climb rallies with burly, barrel-chested
women and scantily clad men.

SOLID FUCKING GOLD! (Shouts "Gold!", fires finger-
pistols in the air erstwhile making gunshot sound effects with
his bristly-beard-surrounded, tooth-missing mouth.)


"Yokels," uttered in disgust.