It's Always Me, Isn't It?

I Rose To My Knees, Mouth Dry And Heart Pounding, And Paused To Finger A Rip In My Beautiful Dacron Bowling Shirt. I Pushed My Fingertip Through The Hole And Wiggled It At Myself. Hello, Dexter, Where Are You Going? Hello, Mr. Finger. I Don't Know, But I'm Almost There. I Hear My Friends Calling.

Rectory Always Sounded To Me Like A Place Where You Would Find A Proctologist.

I Nodded With Genuine Synthetic Sympathy.

I Think That's Nice, And If I Could Have Feelings At All I Would Have Them For Deb.

...being Torn Apart By Far Too Many Loyalties That Could Not Possibly Live Together In The Same Brain.