|Gus, "I told you - I'll find you when I run out, OK!?"|
|Gus, "You're still here - wanna see my impression of a bunweiler?|
My hoomin came over and insisted on a visitation day. Of course, he pretended to make an art date or an art day out of the whole affair. I paraded my mouf in from of him, stuffed it with cookies - and disappeared. I disappeared like a dark cloud of metal necro-insects in "The Invincible." I show up out of nowhere, pillage the cookie bag, and suddenly I'm not there.
And you wonder if I've been there at all. The unease follows; the not knowing - and it sits at the bottom of your gizzard like indigestion.
Good night, and good luck!
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