be here drinking champagne. Thus the
gauntlet was thrown, and all productivity
went to hell. Was in hell? Another sip
and the rain stopped, but he couldn’t get
it up. He could neither get up nor walk
out the door and into (onto) the shadows
of his own residence (residue). Better
players than this have tempted and
twirled their ways into better conscious-
ness than this (he surmised). Conscious-
nessess? Open the door to another plane-
t (he said, tongue-in-cheek). A planet
salted with androids, neither flesh nor
blood. And each a walking existence?
Raise your hand to the one who’d
put out for nothing better than this
mutt just walked out of a dirty hole.
