Curse of the High Bar

Thought I’d do a little stream-of-consciousness detective writing this afternoon. It’s been a while, and I miss Charlie and the rest of the cast of Feeding the Eels. Of course, I have no memory of where things left off, so I went back and read the last three episodes. And there’s a bit of a problem.

See, there are parts of those episodes that are actually pretty darn good. Considering the rules I’ve set for myself as far as just spewing out the story, this next episode is sure to be a letdown. That’s the way it goes, I guess. By the time you read this we will all know how well I did. Hopefully this little sorry-in-advance will allow me to kick back and produce some raw spewage.

Dear Mr. Obama

I can dance you into the ground. Seriously. I think there might have been a time in your life when you could let go and allow the music to move you, but that was before politics. Take heart knowing that you are the only candidate worthy of my challenge.

You. Me. Loud music. I will shame you.

1