Short on seconds of the full evidence to scrape their knuckles in the glass that they deserve for merely existing, the inbred finally see the insides of their legs stained by the fear of a rolling paddy wagon. Right outside the fence, the tipping point is long gone. Now and from here on in, the notice is up large and in lights.
No quick end or simple solution exists to the problem. Only hope for the best is to prolong the counter-attack with the boys in blue flanking the distress calls. Severe problems require incessant nudging and rubbing out like the blights on society they install themselves to be.
Walking at night now to be as problematic and as mind fraught as the walk through the streets on an otherwise clear and sunny day.
Wednesday, 27 December 2006
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Elemunk scrambles the loose connections bouncing about the mind of Soon Van.
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One, two, spit on your shoe. Three, four, want some more?