Another week

As the faces of the fallen stream across the flickering screen, and their tears seem larger than life, M is struck by an overpowering sense of boredom. Sleep hits like a thick fog.

No cheese on my pizza, please. Thank you.

Serious blogging has left M (also known as Dr. T, may praises shower upon his peaceful countenance) with a sprained thumb and a sore mind.

I'm a little teapot, short and stout.
Here is my handle, here is my spout

As the heavenly aroma of Peking duck makes his mouth water, he realizes he has no money, not for a duck, not for the local train.

Oh, woe is me!

I don't need what you got for me no more

M (also known in lands beyond the mind's eye as Dr. T, praise be unto him) feels his stomach sink as the voice with the soft T's reads aloud his worst fears. Her voice fades in his mind, lost among magical thoughts of a delirious mind.

With eyes glazed over into hard Grey marbles, M is helped up and led away.