This cries out to me with the voice of a thousand angel babies. In my last post, I expressed my affinity for maimed animal parts hanging prominently in my home. This is a chance to right a terrible wrong—a shot at redemption. However: I am savvy to the earth's position in relation to the sun, and how our path as we hurdle endlessly through space around a feebly burning ball of compact elements has been arbitrarily organized into a series of evenly divided sectors to make sense of the abstract and limited concept of time. Therefore, I know that our current position has been designated an appropriate one in which to affront one another with falsehoods and pranks in an attempt to mock and ridicule... Harumph. As if it were even real. As if I would even want that patrician beast's fuzzy noggin ennobling my harrowed heart. I won't be had again. I won't.
I can't.
I...
.
...want
...
I'll be right back.
