May 19, 2005
1:07 AM. Oblesburg.
The Greyhound jerked to a stop in a driving rain, tossing me out of a warm dream of a time that'll never come again, a time before the war. I rubbed my eyes and looked out through the crazy rivers on the window glass. A shabby rotten little corner of a shabby little city, a city full of shabby decent people who just want some peace and never seem to get it. A forgotten place to jungle up for a while until Kroc's boys back on the Coast forgot my face.
I looked at my watch. 1:07 AM. This was the place, all right.
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Catn umrstnad a bluddy wrd, rite ni Egnlich mna.
tihs form a guy who cant splel 'bloudey'.
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Is this to hide out, or is it a new way of having sex, involving dressing up like Tarzan and covering yourself and your partner with creepers and mosquito bites? I can't decide which seems more likely.
Looking forward to the next installment!
I'LL TYPE IN ALL CAPS AT YOU!!!!!!!
Come to that, I don'tknow either - haven't seen the guy in over two decades.