The case of the lost girlfriend
Starring the lost girlfriend on the brakes who went to look for another set of values elsewhere to where they could be found and got lost along the way and came back with nothing to show for it all but naught point three of a percentage point which didn't wake her up or cause a magnitude earthquake but did leave her empty until the voice of the déjà vu daisy came along and said things to her that made no sense but did rumble her belly a bit and made this as far as we can get today and so ends the case of the lost girlfriend.
News flash over.
DO I WHAT?
When the bus roared past with a gang of lost tourists hanging around for dear life I just had to sit back and take stock of my emotions that were threatening to boil over. They were coming up from the abyss to spoil things, hah!
Another piece of life going by in a flash.
I let them go again, to fulfil whatever purpose they would, but without me; I was not going to be prisoner to them as I used to be in the long ago silver and gold of my youth.
I gathered my wits to me and counted them and got as far as 7 potato more, and then gave up on that, not every wit is worth counting.
Time to turn off the traction and fall back into the dust, or any way I can turn it to move on.
It’s funny what I find in the backroom lockers where I hide things when I’m in search of space or some expression to move on.
“Do I what?” came a voice from the past. It was the father’s shout that had got in but had never again got out.
I let it bounce around until it was exhausted and then kicked it out.
“Don’t come back,” I shouted after it as it disappeared forever, finally.
“Is it easy eating your way out of a baked spud?” asked another voice. I ignored it.
MISSING FROM WHERE?
Half a moon later, or so it seemed, the missing link fell out of the hellish sounds of a world gone crazy and after landing with a bump came over and sat down beside me and took out the makings to roll a smoke.
“And where are you from?” I asked, my mouth still full of baked spud.
“Cybernation,” she replied without looking up.
“Nice,” I said, wondering if it was.
“I’m number 5 from the engine room, and that’s all I’m going to say about it,” she said, saying no more about it.
End of part 37
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You should think about publishing your stories! They are special!
I would if anyone would buy them
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