Parlously she took aim of his mal-petit head. Hasn’t a tosspot to piss in, as sorry a state of affairs as I’ve ever seen. Sloppy attire and no shine to speak of. Keeps his keepsakes in a sachet under his cot, boxful of lice and balls of hair. No mohair, just dog and lemming. Its appalling: as scandalous as a house on fire. Keep looking my dear, its just around the corner, I assure you. The light flickered in through the window, her face pushed into the midpoint of her pillow. An open window is a sure-fire invitation for bugs and flying things. The man in the hat took a seat and let out a halfhearted sigh. ‘I can’t take it anymore…! it will never end’
The next morning Lela found a letter from the man in the hat stapled on the wall over her head. ‘Best get your things together, the sky looks like its going to fall… Hurry!’ Boyars, Pest and Cheltenham headed for Gloucestershire, Boyars having forgotten to close the window in his cheese house. Lela thought this strange but looked aslant out the window just the same, hoping to catch a glimpse of a titlark or a thrush. People were always coming and going, a steady line of vagrants and louses, but today seemed different; they came but didn’t go, setting up small encampments in the parking lot behind the Waymart and the paddocks alongside the aqueduct. Sepahan Buxton of Derbyshire stood admiring his reflection in the Seder grocer’s window.
Sepahan Buxton of Derbyshire sits under the Seder grocer’s awning thinking of ways to steal women’s attire: gloves and hats, purses and handbags, stockings and hoses’, panties and brassieres, ladies’ undergarments and unmentionable’s. Yonder, behind a hedgerow of honeysuckles, Boyars, Pest and Cheltenham scheme ways to upend the legless man’s pushcart. Pest taking the lead suggesting they kick his cart out from under him; Cheltenham suggesting they crack him over the head with cudgels; and Boyars, shaking his head saying ‘we’ll manhandle the little creep… he ain’t got no legs for God’s sake!’
The next morning Lela found a letter from the man in the hat stapled on the wall over her head. ‘Best get your things together, the sky looks like its going to fall… Hurry!’ Boyars, Pest and Cheltenham headed for Gloucestershire, Boyars having forgotten to close the window in his cheese house. Lela thought this strange but looked aslant out the window just the same, hoping to catch a glimpse of a titlark or a thrush. People were always coming and going, a steady line of vagrants and louses, but today seemed different; they came but didn’t go, setting up small encampments in the parking lot behind the Waymart and the paddocks alongside the aqueduct. Sepahan Buxton of Derbyshire stood admiring his reflection in the Seder grocer’s window.
Sepahan Buxton of Derbyshire sits under the Seder grocer’s awning thinking of ways to steal women’s attire: gloves and hats, purses and handbags, stockings and hoses’, panties and brassieres, ladies’ undergarments and unmentionable’s. Yonder, behind a hedgerow of honeysuckles, Boyars, Pest and Cheltenham scheme ways to upend the legless man’s pushcart. Pest taking the lead suggesting they kick his cart out from under him; Cheltenham suggesting they crack him over the head with cudgels; and Boyars, shaking his head saying ‘we’ll manhandle the little creep… he ain’t got no legs for God’s sake!’
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