Tell me the deepest down hell-and-goddam secret you know.

a webjournal about literature, psychology, the oxford comma, and other happening things
“You said a little while ago you could keep secrets.”
“I can.”
“Well, do you have a double-poison-and-cut-my-throat secret?”
“Sure I have.”
“Tell me what it is, Aron.”
“Tell you what?”
“Tell me the deepest down hell-and-goddam secret you know.”
“Why, I will not. What right you got to ask me? I wouldn’t tell anybody.”
“Come on, my baby—tell Mother.”
“I don’t know as I want to marry you. I think I’m going home now.”








Abra was ready ere I call'd her name
And though I called another Abra came
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