The moratorium on ice


The lack of a contingency for ice in the jack and coke is getting diabolical. The fireworks continue and have been going off this side of Compton and South of Vernon, the township and the street, since last month, which was way in advance of the rockets red glare and our hearts bursting mid-air. They flew through the night and the flag was still there. The flying monkeys flew, that is, but luckily, the nightmare ended and all was well because those returning from battle could see the flag that was raised above the shelter and whoever won and has won, historically, tends to be the benevolent dictator for a while, til the fall of the empire comes from cult crop circles of burning rain man florists down by the way station, between Gage and Florence and somewhere near Slauson which was where I worked a commercial that was never really that much fun.

The inability to go in and out for ice is the only issue at the Foxy Motor Inn.

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