|
Smiling cardboard head cutouts of Amish descent do nothing for the climate of climactic climbing tactics. Refracted over a period of three business days before being excommunicated from the latrine factory and shoveled into a heap of counter-cultural entrapment flavored fluff, I am ready to begin counting backwards into the megaphone of infinite lava exhaust. When I reach zero, several cockerspaniels and a screwdriver will merge to form a whole new kind of indigestion, one that won’t ruin your engine.
|