Thursday, September 4, 2008


Tommy's wings pumped like a six stroke motor on refined premium. He carried Galahad on his back and Simon in his belly, primed to deliver the boy (Simon) on demand to the moon his master. Behind him he left a world in chaos, a frog epidemic and an alleged nuclear explosion frozen in superposition (the traveling trio hoped no one would look). In front of him lay the moon, the stars, the universe. His countenance betrayed no sentiment; his wings kept on flapping.

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