...oh and before you lock eyes
with a black man's train, be sure that he isn't in fact a gory ventriloquist
conquistador. I've made that mistake on numerous occasions and I thought that
you should benefit from my experience before your mother and I leave you in the
dusk entirely. It's not technically abandonment if you're not completely
cognizant, is it? You don't even have your own distinct scent yet. I rubbed
your left side on my trouser legs and your mother wrapped all her best
cardigans around your right side. She tried to hug you for one last time but I
managed to send a message straight to that dizzy place she calls a head and she
quickly dropped you breaking all your ties. At the exact same instant an
eclipse occurred so at least you know that it was predestined and totally the
right and accurate thing to do.
Anyway my phone reception is
nothing but muddy shit on a lakeside potter's rump so I'll let you off for now.
The kiln is a good place to start but I'm not going to tell you that whilst you
can still hear me so I'll just cover all this with a black banner and leave you
to catch up on your own damn time. Meanwhile I'm turning the crib you left
behind into a fine orator, a honest to God leader of household goods. The war
is just around the corner so expect warranties to suddenly become
inappropriate.
Go now my child. I place you in
this rocket for the simple reason that you ask too many questions. You don't
even attempt to enlighten me with that chubby armed enthusiasm you insist on. I
know it's a front but your mother isn't as bright as I am. I was in the
previous set of wars and lost each of my digits to shark bait bets. It wasn't
the highlight of my career but maybe you will be. Anyway off you go. Little
mister dear.
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