After that, I saw a lot of the magistrate, except that my lawyer was with me each time.
And since my lawyer was always hungry, the magistrate viewed him as vermin.
"You must also represent Mr. K's livestock because you are always feeding," he asked my lawyer at the Spring Fair.
But I still had some tricks up my sleeve; exhibit number one being a cache of buttons made of compacted snuff detritus.
I assigned my lawyer the task of giving the magistrate some of my buttons, which he promptly delivered.
The magistrate called his tailor to the cottage and told him to alter his new slate-gray suit and to add my buttons.
I knew the magistrate had a trial to hear the next day.
So, that night, I instructed my swami to through telekinesis at the appointed time, melt those buttons into ornery pellets of influenced affirmation, chemical yes.
A Spanglish blog dedicated to the works, ruminations, and mongrel pyrotechnics of Yago S. Cura, an Argentine-American poet, translator, publisher & futbol cretin. Yago publishes Hinchas de Poesia, an online literary journal, & is the sole proprietor of Hinchas Press.