When he was a boy his da visited a Chinese masseuse with spongy hands and Alizarin red lips. His da said she soothed the aching in his back with her soft spongy hands. When his da came home from the Chinese masseuse he had a smile on his face as wide as the doorframe he walked through.
(In the 15th or 14th year of Laegaire son of Niall Theodosius the Less drove Patrick out of the pews, exclaiming ‘--beggar, thief, mountebank, this church is for believers, not braggart scum!’)
The Chinese masseuse did his da’s laundry, washing out the grease spots and ironing the creases in his work-shirts and trousers. Aarschot Brabant, sole proprietor of the Chinese rubdown, known for his heavy-handedness and unusual features, has a bone to pick with the Witness, the Witness having ripped him off for the cost of 127½ pamphlets extolling the virtues and health benefits of spongy-handed massages. The pamphlets were to read, We won’t stop until you say ‘UNCLE’… Money back guarantee, credit cards not accepted. Instead they read, Las putas son conchas ‘ASQUEROSAS’… SINNERS burn in hell, PUTAS!
Henrico Lönnrot, lover of opera and swift horses, met the man in the hat under the Waymart clock, his satchel bursting with knickknacks and leather goods. The inimical Henrico Lönnrot, purveyor of fine linens and soft hide, opened his satchel revealing a plethora of fine skin goods: vegan leather, also referred to as pleather, Ostrich, Morocco and Nappa leather, Corinthian and Chamois, both calf’s tongue soft, boiled and steamed leather, Bicast leather and Aniline leather, a smorgasbord of top quality leather goods. Rawhide, elephant hide, buffalo hide and buckskin he kept in a separate satchel stowed away under the buckboard of his oxcart. These he showed to a special breed of clientele, those with an eye for toughness and lasting quality. The man in the hat was interested in a small piece of goatskin, which the inimitable Henrico Lönnrot had promised to bring with him the next time he came to town. The tock tick tock of the Waymart clock aroused the attention of the alms man’s, the legless man and the harridan’s sister, all three staring blindly at the blue blue sky.
(In the 15th or 14th year of Laegaire son of Niall Theodosius the Less drove Patrick out of the pews, exclaiming ‘--beggar, thief, mountebank, this church is for believers, not braggart scum!’)
The Chinese masseuse did his da’s laundry, washing out the grease spots and ironing the creases in his work-shirts and trousers. Aarschot Brabant, sole proprietor of the Chinese rubdown, known for his heavy-handedness and unusual features, has a bone to pick with the Witness, the Witness having ripped him off for the cost of 127½ pamphlets extolling the virtues and health benefits of spongy-handed massages. The pamphlets were to read, We won’t stop until you say ‘UNCLE’… Money back guarantee, credit cards not accepted. Instead they read, Las putas son conchas ‘ASQUEROSAS’… SINNERS burn in hell, PUTAS!
Henrico Lönnrot, lover of opera and swift horses, met the man in the hat under the Waymart clock, his satchel bursting with knickknacks and leather goods. The inimical Henrico Lönnrot, purveyor of fine linens and soft hide, opened his satchel revealing a plethora of fine skin goods: vegan leather, also referred to as pleather, Ostrich, Morocco and Nappa leather, Corinthian and Chamois, both calf’s tongue soft, boiled and steamed leather, Bicast leather and Aniline leather, a smorgasbord of top quality leather goods. Rawhide, elephant hide, buffalo hide and buckskin he kept in a separate satchel stowed away under the buckboard of his oxcart. These he showed to a special breed of clientele, those with an eye for toughness and lasting quality. The man in the hat was interested in a small piece of goatskin, which the inimitable Henrico Lönnrot had promised to bring with him the next time he came to town. The tock tick tock of the Waymart clock aroused the attention of the alms man’s, the legless man and the harridan’s sister, all three staring blindly at the blue blue sky.
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