Everyone Is Happier If They Have Someone

It Was An Eight-harlot Inn, If That's How You Measure An Inn. (i Understand That Now They Measure Inns In Stars. We Are In A Four-star Inn Right Now. I Don't Know What The Conversion From Harlots To Stars Is.)

You Know, There's A 12 Step Program For Gambling. You Should Look Into That. Twelve Steps. Coyote Laughed. I'll Bet I Can Do It In Six.

If You Like What You're Reading, I Probably Wrote It.

For A While He'd Tried Molding Himself Into The Tragic Romantic Hero, Brooding And Staring Clench-jawed Off Into Space As He Composed Dark Verse In His Head. But It Turned Out That Trying To Appear Tragic In Incontinence, Indiana, Was Redundant, And His Mother Kept Shouting At Him And Making Him Forget His Rhymes. "tommy, If You Keep Grinding Your Teeth Like That, They'll Wear Away And You'll Have To Have Dentures Like Aunt Ester." Tommy Only Wished His Beard Was As Heavy As Aunt Ester's---then He Could Stare Out Over The Moors While He Stroked It Pensively.

Well They're Pissed Off And They're Hungry. I Was Kind Of Busy Trying Not To Get My Brains Eaten. They Seemed Pretty Adamant About The Brain-eating Thing. Then They're Going To Ikea, I Guess