The stars flickered out in the frost crackled

The stars flickered out in the frost crackled back at his boots. The grass beneath it was frozen into an intricate matrix of tiny corridors leading upward into the shadow, but he

paid it no heed as his determination was colder than the night air around him. Slowly, he approached the house, careful not to make noise to rouse the inhabitants. The door was

wide open. It was a surprise party. Their faces revealed not for him. They spat at him and called him a foul dog. They chased him with bailing wire and tar. They wanted his black

chef's hat, as only evil chefs would dare to wear such a chapeau. The cunning culinary cut crudites carefully, avoiding latent lops of loose limbs

Just joking. Juvenile jesters just joined juvenile jamborees.Lascivious Lords loved listening. My master mentioned mead, meaning my mission must

be completed by Cowboy TV! He'll complete it by

getting kicked off the site for blatant douchbaggery. "Right" said Fred. Then he did his little turn on the catwalk. Yes,

it felt good showing off for the crowd. Of course being 6 stories up on the scaffolding reduced the effect somewhat but I was sure the people across central park had a telescope

they would appreciate my recap of the situation in mime. When I was done, there was a bit of applause in the crowd below. I stepped off and, for a moment, floated in the light.