And The Truth Is Years Away.
I'm back from my tour of the top end. My keyboard jocky hands wrapped firmly around handlines caught firmly in the mouths of sharks bigger than me. The barrels of a Winston twelve-gage smoked in my clasp after taking down a policeman in a friendly trap shoot. Suns set. Sandflies nourished. Frames of reference waltzed. XXXX Gold beer. Zero Coke. Water. Red Emperor. You just have to try the Emperor. Glad to be back. Blackjack. Jackpot. And the truth is years away.
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