I DON'T KNOW WHY
I EVER WATCHED YOU
Or the Waltons either - what a bunch
of hokey stiffs. Earl Hamner Jr., go to
Hell. Lunch is served by the dismal
pound here, with attendants riding
rocket-launchers to serve your every
need, quick-to-be. While I am tired,
I profess to be awake and no one
notices my fabrication. Lance Loud
is coming over later; we seeded the
playing cards with angel-dust just
for him. A chorus of castrati will
serenade. The town hall is open, and
the bandstand now has lights for
the midnight singalong.
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