Tuesday, December 22, 2015

7619. NO WAY THROUGH

NO WAY THROUGH
I am carrying all this burden, gladly, and
I'd agreed to that : but sadly, I have no way
through. The windows are made of wax, and
this retarded janitor thinks I am selling him
keys. He's fumbling for something to say to
refuse.  All he really need do is open the door.

No comments: