...and the Silver Bullet Band.
Follow my lead on this one, ok? We can arrange ourselves side by side, some on top of each other, some down below. Turn to the right. Turn to the right. Jump. Strap on your yellow cape and jump off a building onto the Avenue of Americas. $1.30 for a Sprite!? I'd pay much, much more for that.
The sky at night looms over the parkway with the digital facelift. That time doesn't count as much as I told you it would. I'd love to hear some divine pearls of wisdom from our new pastor, it's never by far. Bold red text is a tricky proposition, you can really pull it off or you can really pull [through]. There could be hail in the area, chip away tonight at the window. "What's the speed limit for deoxygenated blood? I think I have a violator in my body." Time doesn't matter when the parkway becomes my most important organ.
Recall the story of the Supreme Being who gave three of his subjects different fates. One subject was blessed with financial excess and a long life with many grandchildren. Another subject was given a Columbia-colored collar and an overwhelming desire to return to the green village with the murky crawlpipe to the Kingdom. The final subject was given long tan legs and a lecherous father who broke her mother's heart by refusing to be angry that the mother had cheated first. The magnanimous Watcher told the subjects, "take what I've given you and invest it in the world that [0] and [1] made for you (recursive stack trace, clearly), then return to me in twenty years and show me what you've done."
The first subject hired an accountant to concoct charitable works that would offset the taxes on his fate's interest. He wound up squandering his fate on cocaine and aesthetically-pleasing sweatsuits. The second subject learned many trades and put up a corkboard in his garage on which he hung his trades each night before he went to bed. The great care he took organizing his trades at night earned him national acclaim. He created electronic aliases to his talents so he could lock them away in that celebrity garage. Unfortunately it was fated that he misread the network protocol configuration on his talent retrieval PDA and eventually lose connection with his talents and return to his green village in shame. The third subject never had many opportunities to alter her fate negatively, so she just persisted with the nobility instilled in her just after she was delivered by an angel disguised as a nurse. This worked out for the third subject, and when she returned to the Great Director her every wish was granted except the one about true love.
It's odd, Missy.
