Sam, his teeth scratchy yellow, leaning dangerously away from the table, on a chair stood on two legs, passes the smoke jar and says, “diamonds, dear Sidney, may well be a girl’s best...” He holds up one hand, clenched. Then the other. He gathers eyes. He opens the first fist and blows into his palm. … Continue reading Greyhound Suggestion.
bad lieutenant had the greasy palm, sought soft fruit solace in an odd shaped bar. supped black sambuca - contracted boozers' arm. couldn't find way out of carrier bag. caught a tap on the chin from the bristol crow. grew to dislike soubriquet bestowed. reversed tartan, tripled vodka intake flow. couldn't find way out … Continue reading soubriquet.