Nia had something of a raw talent for waxing,

Nia had something of a raw talent for waxing, though she lacked her sisters' polish. When the twilight of hirsutism threatened the family business, Nia quickly uprooted it with hot
pockets that had been fashioned into a rake. The Idea was that Nia could then eat the rake comfortably because by the time the thing had been uprooted, the hot pockets would have c
Ooled off. But they were still hot. The leaves were falling faster now that it had rained. What to make of it, I thought. I perambulated the neighbourhood as usual and pondered
perpetual potion machines in polling places. It was full dark now and the wet streets reflected the streetlights like retro rockets keeping things level. The wet leaves muffled the
musical sound of the witches' waders as they waddled into the polling place to pick their next president. The streetlights showed their snotty schnozes. Nearby, a black cat
offered sexual favors to men waiting in line to vote, hoping to influence the election. A poll worker saw and accosted the black cat. “No electioneering!” The witches then turned
his teetotalling ass into a seething drunk Siamese cat reduced to being spanked by Green Party liberals. Suffice it to say, the electioneering ended; the sexual favors didn’t.
But were they really sexual favors, or was there some sort of quid pro quo? He wasn't sure any more. He just felt dirty. Grandma noticed how often he washed his hands, and asked if
he wanted an apple pie. Granny Smith was famous for her green apples; less known was her psychic past. She knew, and the apple pie was her way of saying everything will be alright.
Granny Smith's visions were true, at least to the limits of their branching extent. We can't even predict the weather three days out. Hmm, but maybe, just maybe. Oh yeah!

Started: 2013-06-22 19:29:25
Finished: 2020-01-04 19:45:04

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