Vulture Chic Among Rats

Robert Quick

Where the -@!# did my muse go?

Writer, dreamer, knight, shackled by entertainment . . . and people.

"Here it gors. Me and my cogs was moffing along the murky part of the Long Tews, minding our own business-grifts, we was. When all of a sudden these two 'barians spilled outta a drunkard's den. Real strangers, they was, and really going at it, faces like sweaty plums. They pushed and shoved, yelling about 'legiances and coin. 'sfar as I could ken, and I ain't exactly a people unpuzzler, both acted like they own brother had stabbed them right in the most vulnerable part of they backs. The limer of the two took a couple good-sized bops to the old noggin, being downhill atmospherically speaking, and upon the realization he was about to be bested, drew steel from beneath the manifolds of his cloak-jacket. Now the situation sparked up. Dark violence spilling out from the want in men's hearts. I smelled me a profit if we could wait through the stabbery. Old Nod and Sticky Dan followed my lead and spread out like a lady's fan. They knew the gristle and well . . . do you think I oughta go on further with me story?"


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