My 3:00 AM thoughts....
The weak knees of the man in the white labcoat shook and vibrated like a startled rattlesnake, ready to fight any trespasser to death in the fierce Texas heat. The self-loathing scumbag, who neatly put those butterflies into glass containers for retarded tourist from Botswana, fell down off his steel stool as he nibbled on his lunch: a soggy tuna salad sandwich on stale wheat bread with the crusts cut off, which he would collect and save all week, each day, scooping up the bits of unwanted bread, and placing them in a brown paper bag. He would then feed to the birds that lived in the large poplar trees that populated his rectangular backyard, each Sunday morning, like clockwork, minutes before he'd drive his twin daughters to church. The oldest one, by a mere three minutes, was singing in the choir, and he dared not miss a single note of his little sugar bear belt out the latest hymns in the oldest Baptist church in that county. The younger one would sit in a disturbing eerie silence, rarely blinking, or moving at all until the service was over. Then she would recite, verbatim, the homily from the Pastor. She had her own weekly blogspot, which she would blog honest, ripping, and cold commentary on the Pastor's out dated and anti-Semitic rants.
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