There was a tabby cat, see. This tabby cat was orange and preferred going about its days with its anus as clean as a whistle.
A handful of adults ranging through early adulthood and up through their mid-twenties and into the shallows of their thirties stood hovered atop a coffee pot. The coffee pot, see, was not cooperating. Malcolm said, “I can run to 7/11.” And then Malcolm received five certain “Nos”, his focus then returning to the recently produced […]
The truth was…well, nobody really knew, but everybody had their fair share of assumptions. This, as Malcolm told me, was why the world was as crazy as it was.