Turin, Italy  is beautiful this time of year but I have my sights set on a faster car.  You know, one that satisfies the deep-itch and won’t leave you all wet and lonesome, the way so many other let us down.  Kneel.

How is this possible?

Well, for one thing, we turn sideways.  No one ever thinks of this and yet it is the most down-home way I can think of to get a maximum rise from skin that is tired.  Even my neighbors helped and they HATE suntan oil.  Honest.  We showed all the photographs that proved it and they still wouldn’t come out of hiding!  What do they fear most?  I think it was something I said or a song that was sung.  You know kids!

“It is a really big cloud, ” Dr. Averman commented, “And  the stitching is first-class.”

Oh, how the hell would he know?  He saves all of his sneezes in paper envelopes, a trend I will not be sorry to see fade from popularity.  I’m not touching them and I have no plans to.  Not now, anyway, but you can never be sure.  Dr. Averman is very persuasive.  Wetsuit persuasive, so slap it twice for good luck.

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Once the effect of hypnosis wore off, Candy found herself more likely to be taller.  Soup came to her easily and the memo tacked to the back of the shack fell back.  Candy read it, pleased that understanding smells like this, a pinwheel measured for action! There’s the train for relaxation but surgery is expensive.  HA!

Let him go!  He’s no god.