Verse and Dramatic: "A gwad man came from the icy sloes..."

 

A gwad man came from the icy sloes....

The heron was wearing a kilt.

Albert done saided: "Climb whatever mountain you need to climb to catch this guy."

Egrets and Malshuss came along ca-jungling and fuzzy whumpling.

She was in the trunk, and none realized.  They found her in the water, later, the twin cousin.

She madeth the most ever silent drape runner.

And oiled machines at the sawmill.

"You remind us so much of her" they said, smiling up front, but sucking in their buttcheeks in the heat of anger in behind.

They did not know, what stone to turn over, what tree to look behind to procure and entrap the dreaded Kieler.

The Air Force guy had a secret file on the country club real estate development, was even cataloging birdsong and so forth.

Gordon Everett Howle was there, trailing just behind the Kieler, and there was something to it, something like a wound arm feeling the coming of rain, that he was just a bit at the trail.

"Whatever mountain you need to climb..."

And advice from the deputy, "if you need to squirt, squirt, don't hold it back.  Just let it happen."

G. E. Howle said, "at least once a day."

"Just let it happen" the deputy reiterated.

And he pumped Blueberry and Pineapple on his snowcone, to match the eyeglasses of the local therapist, the one that the police used and the school.  Anyway, seemed like there were always little ones complaining about homework, and there was always a gun in storage in a metal desk drawer, while whomever talked to Jim Creek, the local head shrinker.

Seemed they were no closer after weeks and weeks, no closer to an arrest, but they had uncovered so much other in the meantime, the country club development, drug mules, prostitution rings just across the border recruiting local girls, and all sorts.

Bobby killed a guy.

The drape runners were like a baby fart.  Just kind of came and went like butter.

That gwad man would a go with his leather satchel, his purse, made none the better, and return yet to the icy sloes of home.