"Finish the song--" Can you hear the soft

"Finish the song--" Can you hear the soft voice, da one calling out to you? Cause I can hear the screaming, there, oh, deep inside. Can you hear the words, da ones

that tickle your throat, the ones that make you gloat, to the goat sitting in the middle of the moat. Can you hear our song?, the one that is sung all wrong, the one that smells so

swell, dings like Alexander Graham's bell, toots like a conch shell, all played for a torch holding mademoiselle? Its a catchy tune, which you'll soon croon, to the full moon

and the dish spooned with the spoon. These are silly songs, invented by cheech and chong, after they had spent a very long, night with a giant water bong, now there's nothing wrong

with anything at all. There is nothing right about anything either. There is nothing left. There is nothing up either. We are completely surrounded by nothing. Take your spinster

lady onto the floor and spin her Shady. Widdershuns & Druid markings later the two of you are lying in bed satisfied, for now, and enjoying a sweet breeze wafting through the door.

Then you remember that you didn't order any wafting. You grow suspicious. You slowly move your hand towards your gun. Who was Shady on this one, him or her? Now he wasn't sure.

Suddenly she flings a knife into the rafters where there is a simultaneous thud and grunt followed by the body of a ninja falling just shy of the bed. I guess we were both Shady.

Slim Shady," I concluded. "So that's my story. I hope it helps with the ongoing investigation into said events."

A likely story. Slim Shady knew better, but smiled enigmatically& tipped his fedora. So much to think about, so much more to learn. SlimShady slipped back into the shadows again.