sometime and so narrowly geniuses in milliseconds that could only caused me discomfort or, to be polite, milliseconds being the theme. Apparently I had lied, she and Wayne had done this before, lure everyone in and then, wammo, bar slut, bar slut as theater, they forced one that one utterance I didn't care about. Oh well. Plus there were emissions. like they wre combustible, and, ungratefully, the old concept that is (ungrateful I'm sure) towards some seduction, a succulence that at once revealed a lure that, in retrospect, I couldn't not resist . Always prepared. The profits apparently were larger than I usually guessed at so I missed the value of the car (not really mine, I knew that) and the money, and the money came from a job I wouldn't have had otherwise, though still a stupid job, temp, temp temp, like...they were clever. I like fast cars, I just, apparently, didn't pay full attention as some anti-shylock took hold of the the shadow of the car god as in their world there was always only one. In the mean time, which is really some nether world of contemplation which slides with the value of the whole thing (like, I could still actually win), the theme was still car and the image not a tattoo on the arm, which wouldn't be completely inappropriate, but a tv set set to channel 13 all night long, which was something I did sometimes.
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