Many a muttererer makes Martini-Man blink, his bleary eyes
heavy as twice-pickled onions. Look, there he goes now along
Rocket Beach, all taken with humanity. The blue blue couches
are snoozing by the watered windowpanes as Zero neatly prances
through Chinatown’s wet drooling hoses. Zero drools too. And
by all measure of predictability at most things blond and burnt.
Nobody’s built a rocket since Mount Dragonsnort erupted. And
nobody’s broken a code since the dragons built their bulky berths
on the bay’s barren shores. Winter’s a humdinger this year. Many
a true tale gets lost on Ninja Kitty City, each one languoring for
the lie-squeezing bubs. We watch [death] bury each bitten plot
beneath the gamboling sun whilst rancid dog-lovers yarl at the
piggy pigeons caught in an interminable autumn longueur. Such
mini-mutterings make Martini-Man blink his eggy eyes again.
