You’ve got a sense

of buzzing about in

your britches, dear boy.

Perhaps a spell in

isolation more merits your

infantile complaint? Perhaps not.

It seems you need

a soother, not your

fisherman’s type, but something

more opulent like a

cash injection right there

into your aural orifice,

in liquid form. But

then again, we’ve managed

to waste another few

minutes of your waiting

to die time. Bravo!

But life’s not some

spawning game, where your

eternity seems like a

single session of multiplicity.

In fact it’s not

anything useful; instead, just

some inconvenience devised by

two Godlings waiting for

their ride to Nowhere.


© 2017 L. Tafa


Author: b20f08

I enjoy solo wargaming and writing. The first caters to the boy that never grew up; the latter satisfies a deep desire to communicate. Cheers.

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