When the township garbage men left the stinking bags right there in their bins, ripped open by chipmunks no less, the older one had come out in shorts, an Iron Maiden retro T-shirt, and black flip-flops to dump the filthy moisture all over the uneven asphalt. He sprayed it off with a garden hose,...
Next was the rocking, the skyline come alive, trees all around pitching to and fro as if engulfed in some strange hurricane that painted arcs on the horizon. From beneath, there were great pulling sounds, stretching, yawning, a muffled army of high-tension bows being drawn...
