In the cataract haze of days gone by of dubonnet on ice is a crooner playing nice. Astute commentary is muffled because of jettisoned pilots of purple twilight. Each creamery is into fundraising these days. Harry Crabs represents the conch shells. Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John wait by the river. Jesus' flight has been delayed. He took the redeye out of pain. Newsflash! Don't leave him hangin on that cross. How incredibly foolish are you? Year after year he bears the terrors of insanity. You spit on a fictitious fraud perpetrated by your erroneous assumptions that leave you blind and without any help.

I work at the shelter where adoptions are rare and so they sit in cages of withering vines. Their time spent with here come the noisemakers. Take me home. I've no where to go. Maybe the euthanasia fairy isn't that bad after all. Or train me to be a seeing eye dog. My felines friends have nine lives and some of them are on their last one. What a shame to leave Christ on the Cross of Shame. Murdered. Annually you perform the act all over again to make you feel what?

No wonder adoptions are so necessary.