A conversation

29 Dec

Me: Fancy une fumee?
Effusive Complimenter: Sweet, no. I am trying to give my grounds and messuages a small period of rest before I lay them waste on Sunday.
Me: Poor alveoli – they have no idea of what awaits them.
Effusive Complimenter: Oh, they have some idea…the poor singed little dears fear the coming of December as the minnow fears spring, and the coming of the eel.

You too would allow this woman to strap a yellow box to your head. She’s as persuasive as the Goddess with that silken brogue of hers.

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