Jenny, you've touched on something so very deep and juicy with the morons. It's so completely and fearlessly un-PC. I love it, and I'm counting the days until I hold it in my hands and read it as a full-fledged story. And yes, Barbara, I can tell that you are thoroughly taken with your new wet suit.
Aftershocks of the full moon: You've gone down to the river - you and someone else, actually - to watch the sky glow orange as the mouth of an iron smelter. The two of you have sat on a park bench at the river's edge, a fat carp breaking the surface every so often, as the sky has cooled to a dull maroon, a flat gray. While neither of you were looking, a silent skyrocket has sliced the sky and shattered into a shower of emerald this time, a scattering of gleaming white the next. When it's dark enough, the two of you have turned back from the greasy river. And there just above the black trees is a moon, ripe and round, veiled in vapor, it's distant mouth frozen as if to say, "Oh..."
Bob ;-)
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