#54

The boys were there, pens in hand, marking lines through letters. Jack Sprat and lopping pal. The sway of ties to spondees. Camraderie, disguise. Difficult to swallow. Utensils brandished, slim spears for signatures. Words like cud and corpses bartered in fluorescent light. Fubsy scripting, not my thing. I am a jolly gay pedlar. Pillaged margins. Will no one buy? "Too much passive voice." "Your grammar a wee bit off." My exeunt occupied by screedsters.