ARMS MAKE THE MAN
Right. And your uncle was Johnny Weismuller.
I saw him once, he pulled a canker sore with a
pair of needle-nose pliers. Must have hurt like
hell, but just for a moment. Everyone else was
wincing for him. 'He sure could play Tarzan
well,' someone muttered. Another guy piped
up, 'for what's it's worth, I was his stand-in.'
-
There are a few appointment books on the mantle.
The scheduling session the studio planned isn't
going that well : only two people have showed
so far, and there were supposed to be twelve.
To make a quorum. What a dumb idea.
-
'If there aren't enough here, this meeting's not
valid.' Doesn't it seem as if there's always one of
those people in every crowd : the rules proclaimer,
the next know-it-all, the one who proclaims it's
all for real and never notices it's all for farce.
Valid? He actually uttered the word 'valid'?
-
What dark matter sweeps down on us now?
And what dark matter can this really be? My
mystery is taken, and arms make the man,
(what the man will be).
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