Aggie wielded a maul, the usual bitterness.
Zappa came back from the ravine with a salmon. Buried it and howled. Maggie and Papa would not get out of the car for fear of cats.
White cats are rare.
Larry's house was on fire. You don't usually find yourself alone at the center of a busy intersection with a baker half out of the oven. I'm saying, it wasn't the first time. If you think it through beforehand you withhold the hug. You don't gush.
Tell you a joke.
Aegisthus lost the ax.
So is the skeleton of a bear. Rare.
Joke to tell you.
Aegisthus went downhill, slow.
Everyone's focus is the damage done when the ladders are gone.
You are sheep, you have escaped from your pen once again at midnight.
You drag your chain through the gardens and you make yourself known.
I patted Larry on the back, he looked abashed, and rightly so.
Everyone wants to be the one to walk out of the wilderness.
Enough of shooting stars and bats, it's time to maintain an explosion.
Every hundred years it floods. If you know the slough, you follow the slough.
You look for the first way out. There are not very many large mammals in the first place. At that hour only the early risers would see a house for what it is not. What you have to remember is that it's not a race. It's a slope, with decorations. The decorations are always wearing down. In time, another fence on wheels will fall. The others had a small child who begged for acorns. Or wood for the stove. He has to be told. "Every hundred years it floods, child."