The Wax Conspiracy

Evening again and the clowns on the coast roll in

Festering and leeching on the constraints of the pack, a few, wavy in neck hair as they are hirsute from the brow to the chin, take issue with their closeted minds. Considered the retards of the society, paths they break knuckle deep in the dirt. Dead giveaway to the pool and a certain liability for all concerned.

Pitched in the bleak heart of breakfast, the drains and drags drink a hearty feast of silt and moss. (Moss being grown on the side of their heads for the rocks in the area are far too dry.)

A most entertaining delight of diet for their hosts only accept witness as they consume and gorge themselves into a slumber heavy with sediment.

On the next evening's afternoon, the pitch rolls out the dead to wash out the filth that stains the community.

One sub group less in the whole, the only hope now is that the move was soon enough.

Ethan Switch

Written on Wednesday, 27 December 2006

The Wax Conspiracy

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