“Kill your darlings”, they say, hemming and hawing.
For sale, baby shoes, never worn...
“They” being William Faulkner, reportedly. Perhaps it is apochryphal, perhaps not...in any event, the postman never rang. He just dropped the package on the stoop...
Hi. Welcome to Lester’s Diner. My name is Duane. My hair is brownish-gray, my eyes are washed-out green, my collar is yellow from all the egg, and I’ll be your server today — Samantha Eggar couldn’t make it. In our previous episode, Cub Tracks lumbered up to the plate and barreled up a couple of meatballs (little round meat loaves), the Hot Stove has gotten lit and the sprinklings of delicious rumor and the enticing aroma of all that cash will no doubt keep the pachydermus pundits ponderously pounding their pulsating pulpits well into the coming new year.
