Ah, John - - one week later, the echoes of gloomy voices ring across the land - -
Ding Dong! The Glitch is dead. Which old Glitch? The Precious Glitch!
Ding Dong! The Precious Gitch is dead.
Sad, huh?
Photos of nine black-robed figures hunched over a black cauldron, aimlessly stirring the pot, appeared in the National Crying Towel rags.
It could be heard muttered things like "A cool front is moving in to stifle the bloomin' heat?"
- "Fears abound of a balmy Autumn and Winter!"
Yeah, yeah - The G D Party Plans a Candlelight Vigil !! scream the headlines.
(Gloom & Doom Party, that is . . .)
Their Wall Street investors who had hurridly, anticipating the VEC (Vast Energy Crisis), created a chain of Lanterns R Us stores, gasped in waves around the nation, and trimmed their wicks - stocks now worthless unless Mother Nature brings a hurricane or ten.
Speaking of depressing sales report, they see that America is obsessed over nesting and getting kids back to school, having too much tax-money-returned-per-child than is decent. Why even their children/grandchildren needed things like shoes and jeans and books and pens and pencils and - - well, you get the tragic picture.
Hits 'em right in the old backpack, it does . . .
'Nuff to make you cry for 'em, isn't it, Dear John?
Just listen as the voices fade - - "Recession" - "Lesson" - as they sit there in the dark light watching replays of old tv series and mutter along, "To the Moon, Alice!" .....
- - Get Over It, Ralph - - -
Gotta run.
