In yet another, I continue to see the number of…

3/9/12

 I have written mostly of the fluff and flavor of life of late and feel as though I have betrayed a small portion of my readers in doing so. So let me break from recent tradition and tell you that I have had many odd dreams of late. In one, another door opens which brings me great hope. In yet another, I continue to see the number of the ______________ rush across the screen of my cell phone. It flashes incessantly at me, telling me I have an urgent message. I also see something R has described to me of late.

Small silver blades that dovetail and spring from the ends of fingers meant to do someone great bodily harm. They are the weapons of Marshall Arts or Hollywood’s favorite Wolverine. Who bears such nifty little toys of destruction? Who might carry and covet such weapons of passion… for kid yourself naught. Maiming and ripping the flesh of another is most definitely an intimate and passionate crime… for you cannot get any closer or more personal than to defame and defile the epithelium of another.

So who are you, Wolverine? Or are you already known to me by another name?

 Is it you who winds threads from doors to doors, like a spider coiling his web to catch the errant fly? Or you who cans and peddles her wares while she watches from generational windows and waits to tell what she has seen? Maybe you once worked in a bakery… or is it you, who now works within the medical profession, whose father once saw and recorded another’s deeds for profit?

Think dear children… for they walk among you every day and you know naught what lurid history they drag behind them, as you smile and wish them well.

The clock has begun to wind down and the murders run around in circles, like in a game of musical chairs.

After almost 46 years chairs have been removed as each player dies. We are down to just a handful now that can still step to the plate and tell the truth.

Who will be brave? Who will be sly? Who is foolish enough to think I do not already know which amongst you has already spilled the beans? Who will sit in the hot seat once the music has stopped?

Ready… go!

“Here we go ‘round the Mulberry bush, the Mulberry bush, the Mulberry bush… Here we go ‘round the Mulberry bush… so early in the morning!”

STOP!

We are down to four chairs.

Go…STOP…GO…STOP…GO…STOP…

One chair left!

Who is in the hot seat now?

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