Charlie Asher: Mrs. Ling, Is That Duck

Action Based On Hope Just Felt Better Than The Paralysis Of Certainty.

People Always Stay The Age That They Died At. My Big Brother Died Of Leukemia When I Was Six. He Was Eight. Now When I Think Of Him, He's Always Eight, And He's Still My Big Brother. He Never Changes, And The Part Of Me That Remembers Him Never Changes.

Perhaps There Is A Reason That There Is No Fool Piece On The Chessboard. What Action, A Fool? What Strategy, A Fool? What Use, A Fool? Ah, But A Fool Resides In A Deck Of Cards, A Joker, Sometimes Two. Of No Worth, Of Course. No Real Purpose. The Appearance Of A Trump, But None Of The Power: Simply An Instrument Of Chance. Only A Dealer May Give Value To The Joker.

No One Knows Why, But Second Only To Eating The Brains Of The Living, The Dead Love Affordable Prefab Furniture.

Then Someone Started Pounding On The Door. And Not A Little "hey, What's Up?" Pound. Like There Was A Big Sale On Door Pounds Down At The Pound Outlet. Buy One, Get One Free At Pounds-n-stuff. --being The Journal Of Abby Normal