Language #85

( What do you call... )

Ganked from mediocredeity

Yada Yada #10

It's a dark and rainy night, almost but not quite the sort of night Snoopy likes to start his novels off with. It's not storming, it's quiet. But it is dark, and moist. The sort of night you can imagine Batman lurking overhead on the roofs, the sort of night Stevie Windwood talks back to, the kind of night Sam Spade would be hot on the trail of a much desired but really worthless trinket. The kind of night some sleazy lowlife would be dying a slow painful death in the back of some alley from a knife wound to the gut.

The kind of night when innocence dies.

It is most definately *not* the type of night when miracles happen. Warm, fuzzy, happy miracles. Let me restate that. It is NOT the kind of night when life affirming, they lived happily ever-after kind of miracles happen. Nope. Just not that kind of night. So don't bother looking for a happy ending, unless it's to a quick massage.

In short, it's the perfect night to do laundry.