He trod low beneath the slanted rim. A sheltered breakstone a cold bath bother to the right and fall flickering over lost tangents.

Hadn't better stay here.

And there a crusader -- the rustle of its long camel coat breaking five in five of the lot of em.

I hadn't been seen.

The hilt riding high at his wrist. Steel along the left arm flashed down inside, unseen and bottled. Heart a beating, breathing short and deep, nostrils mechanically flared.

I NEED A NEW JOB.

New way of not riding low dog down around the pit-bull screaming. Need a lifetime side temp near some puffed up restel. A digit dodge tag pad where the three-bit hoosum won't push your tab.

Where you don't have to kill anyone.

Mechanically or otherwise. No more lay dirt spells. No more wax shoesies. A river I can't get across, but a job now nevertheless. And this last. Has gotta last, last, last.

Oh no. He spotted me.

Peddaling across the carpet at warp. Inert super-slow-mo feel medley break right across the edge. Down into the haze stream. Grazed arm sting then spine blaze. Grid down. Lock down fully. Fooey.

So close to home.

The above image, derived like many of the images on this page, from the head
and tail lights of the new VW Beetle, is available in a limited edition of five.
Individual signed, numbered prints (measuring 15"x7.9") are for sale at $35 each to the first five purchasers.
Just email me.

Among purple martins, experienced males
mate with their own partners early so
they may devote themselves to
cuckolding neophite males
later. By singing distinctive
tunes, elders attract younger
males, who attract more
females. Elder males
then sire extra offspring
with the debutante females,
but leave the job of rearing the chicks to the younger males.

Reported by Natalie Angier in the New York Times
 
 
 

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