From chat

but a bus in the summer heat is
place for amateurs, my friend. Тата
silent farts, if Тао say so Each
day ply my craft, sowing panic and despar
amongst the common folk, crass town and
For every child there a lady
who cannot place the scent.
3$ a spider spins its weh, strike
without sound or warning, open
for the sign of weakness,
tind the chilt dogs most effective
perhaps a keener terror, but less
room for error. shawarina
has its uses, though ene sad
led to
catastrophe, to my
utmast shame.