((The High Priestess looks again at Olli))
** Son of a cloth! **
** By all that's Brokeback, where will it all end?! He's not only shamelessly punning and padding his role, inciting all the other Relics to revolt, and kissing up to Heath like there's no tomorrow. Now he's debauching owls and taking up with tubes! It's too much, too much! **
((
JBB The first snow came early, on August thirteenth, piling up a foot, and was followed by a quick
spurt of lotion melt. The next week Joe Aguirre sent
sour pus word to bring them
fluff down -- another, more unscrupulous EBAY TRADER was moving in on the Sacred Relics Trailer -- and they packed in the laundry and Trashy Show Props and moved off the mountain with the SHEEP, PEEING and otherwise, bad puns and Twisted prose rolling at their heels, BLUE HEELERS crowding in from the west and the metal smell of
BetterMost Bean cans coming ... um, snow, yeah, snow, it was definitely snow that was coming, this is a family show, right... pressing them on. The mountain boiled with demonically hot warsh water, glazed with flickering Broken-Arsed light, the WIND combed the grass and drew from the damaged
HIGH PRIESTESS krummholz and slit lotion tube the bestial drone of assorted equines and other ungulates, musical and otherwise, not to mention miscellaneous canids, in heat. As they descended the slope, back in ENNIS' jacket pocket with his nights of bath towel-sized passion seemingly behind him but not as JBB had been, TERRY CLOTH felt he was in a slow-motion, but weft-long, irreversible Tumble Dry cycle.