THE WULFSHEAD

20090215

My drunken ways couldn't wait *

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It was then that the gentleman from Seattle began to suspect where he actually was

I feel rain slither down
In a hot desert sky
And when I, when I touch you

I'm left wondering why...

I dream

There's no heaven above...There's no hell down below...Just invisible men
In the emperor's clothes

I see my dear clown
And she's draped in silk gowns
And we both, we both laugh
As we tumble down...

You dream

There's no heaven above...There's no hell down below...Just invisible men
In the emperor's clothes

There is no time for crying

'Cos the time waltzes by

And we twirl and we touch
And we both know why...

We dream

There's no heaven above...
There's no hell down below...
Just invisible men
In the emperor's clothes

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I recalled the voice...

... again I questioned whence it came, as vainly as before; it seemed in me--not in the external world. I asked, was it a mere nervous impression--a delusion? I could not conceive or believe: it was more like an inspiration.

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20090214

Sir, I Don't Know Enough About You

I am a flirt. And recently this went a bit beyond flirtation with a man I hadn't seen in 50 years. He was a boy when I met him. I was a child woman. I was the aggressor. Now he's an old man who tracked me down. The result was sad, and made me feel a bit cruel and foolish, so before I engage in flirtation with a strange man, and who amongst you isn't, I need to know more. Because...

A little Gravy Waltz for the passage of the Stim.
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I am sorry, sir . . .

. . . but the gentleman from Seattle must be mistaken.

Let me assure the gentleman that we do not have any cellar, here.

My understanding is that the club keeps its stock in a pocket dimension attached to the bar by a hyperdimensional link.

And before the gentleman asks: no, the gentleman won't find any attic, either.

Nothing below, and nothing above, sir.