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Story No. 33676
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"Queen Of The Midnight Writers" Just another unknown pen, short of a book. Tough as it was, the story had to be published. Someone was writing her memoires,
and they weren't doing a very good job. It was like reading the scrawlings of a 6-year-old boy who wasn't given his Ritalin. It made as much sense as
a half-baked translation of Jacques Derrida into Etruscan,
what the hell does that mean exclamed peter - you know i dont speak spanish. after that he was so flustered he had to
count backwards, upsidedown, sideways-- tunnel-vision was the key here.
No problem, at the next sign post, make a left turn, go down the alley, to meet a dude, leading the way to your destiny.
