Grock is a knuckle-dragger who usually gets his way.
At the doctors office he always eats the stethoscopes; and the tongue depressors.
He loves calibrated sphygmomanometers for dessert.
He won’t eat thermometers though. They give him really stinky farts.
“Good morning Miss Lilly,” he proffered a card.
“Abner Cluck, Acme Insurance.”
“Do you have adequate protection for your business?”
“The girls are responsible for their own, you say?”
“Sorry, I thought this was your house,
you were the madam in charge.”
In the Engine Room, I was Duty Engineer.
Makin’ turns ahead for
One rev per Day.
Been makin’ that speed, since we got underway.
The EOT unexpectedly dinged.
Was the word from the bridge.
I don’t ask,
I shut ‘er down.
“Do you think we should try?”
“If we risk it, we might lose everything.”
“But if we don’t… we lose the opportunity.
“If we lose everything, we can probably rebuild, if we lose this chance – we never get it back.”
Dog poop and dirt are all over the streets. How many bugs have I trod on today? How many legs and antennae are stuck on my boots? When I come inside, I step directly into the kitchen.
The baby crawls around here.
If you can do this, I can promise these,
Passion for what you do.
The respect and admiration of your peers.
Family you can cleave to.
A long, full life.
Nothing more, nothing less.
With cover design to lure the unsuspecting scholar
The Stone is but an opuscule, penned by Margolies.
Inside, printed with a serifed typeface on rag paper, is truth.
Truth to set you free, to make you run.
Perhaps, to get you killed.