The boy, getting closer to 70, saw the wall within the handwriting. Speak to me, oh goddess of giligan, speak quickly about the Millennial version of put your head between your knees, 'cause the twight's a-comin'. Whatever does that mean? Liquid kneepads are maybe just a metaphor for singleness. I, at the crest of the vanity, shook off all the night blurs and hastened the downward thrust of the maker of singed bread. It was at that instant that his chrome reflection gave away the makeup-less appearance he camouflaged using Clearasil and proclaimed he was on the edge of crepitation. Using his Mariam Makeba voice, he clicked like a miked egg timer, masking his woe but flaunting his column. All this saves energy because taping, editing and broadcast is costly so This is my sojourn and it's all for me. Nothing in this life is all for me because Angela, oh Angie, don't let your crimson PJs get in the way.