(Grimmway has a weakness for the ponies. El Torre thumped Grimmway for coming up short. This is crazy all this madness). Martin Grimmway lives with his mother in a bedsit walkup. Martin Grimmway and his mother live above a man who bangs pots and pans together late into the night. Martin Grimmway’s mother and He stove their ears with cotton batten to ward of the clanging and banging. The man who lives below their bedsit walkup banging pots and pans together could care less. Some day soon both Martin Grimmway and his mother will go stone deaf. Going stone deaf will be a boon to both his mother and Martin Grimmway, as now they will not have to listen to the man who lives below them bang pots and pans together late into the night. (Grimmway has a weakness for the ponies. Tunica and Albuinea thumped Grimmway for coming up short. This is mad all this craziness).
Fluntern lives in a circus tent behind the Druidic Funeral Home. Having only a right arm, the left having been expurgated at the elbow, he has difficulty snapping shut the tent flap. Fluntern hasn’t a friend in the world, living by his lonesome self among the trash and splinters behind the Druidic Funeral Home. When the Burgomaster Santander was put to rest it took 27 men to lower his coffin into the dirt. Peering through the flap in his tent Fluntern watched as the 27 men grunted and moaned, the Burgomaster’s coffin barely fitting into the spade-dug hole. ‘expurgate’ thought Fluntern, ‘surely he doesn’t need two arms’. Standing their shovels against the canebrake the 27 passed around a cigarette, each taking a drag then passing it onto the next, a gray blue nimbus of smoke dissipating into the damp morning air.
Fluntern lives in a circus tent behind the Druidic Funeral Home. Having only a right arm, the left having been expurgated at the elbow, he has difficulty snapping shut the tent flap. Fluntern hasn’t a friend in the world, living by his lonesome self among the trash and splinters behind the Druidic Funeral Home. When the Burgomaster Santander was put to rest it took 27 men to lower his coffin into the dirt. Peering through the flap in his tent Fluntern watched as the 27 men grunted and moaned, the Burgomaster’s coffin barely fitting into the spade-dug hole. ‘expurgate’ thought Fluntern, ‘surely he doesn’t need two arms’. Standing their shovels against the canebrake the 27 passed around a cigarette, each taking a drag then passing it onto the next, a gray blue nimbus of smoke dissipating into the damp morning air.
No comments:
Post a Comment