Time In A Bottle
In the day of days there are and is all sorts of things happening. You name it and the glory of mankind are all there in the finest dress imaginable. Looking spark and spiffy we all know better but some dogs must be left to lie, front porch and all. That is not to say that yapping mutts must remain as such but we do indeed tolerate behavioral modification. All things must and indeed do, pass.1
Fortune telling is an art but since science has not deemed to fit itself with such 'small minded' endeavors what comes to pass typically gets flushed down the toilet along with all sorts of unspeakable 'things'. But that is the way of 'small' minds is it not? Hiding in the dark recesses of the nearest corner is hard to digest when the multitudes are already there in expectation of the next great thing to cross another's mind. All eyes are upon you oh great lord of infinite mercy.2
As the barking dog alerts the unmistakable agility of rampant and typically wanton destruction death does comes 'a knockin'. Though my tiresome ramblings repeat the same message cast adrift upon the high seas, the bottle endures no relief.
Fer christ's sake just read the message.