Tick, tock. Tick, tock. I feel like Captain Hook. I’m standing on my pirate ship, perceiving the open seas carefully with hardly a gale blowing at the sails, resting my one remaining hand at the mast. The crocodile isn’t there, but I face the bloody thing three days hence, and it seems as if all I have to do is flip a coin to determine the winner of our next meeting.
Get me in a better mood next time and I’ll use Madam la guillotine for my next anology, though to be honest I’m rather amused with this one. Really, I wasn’t kidding when I told my roommate that I was itching to write. It just sounds so much better than mineral interests.