Sinister: my friend, as lonely as a highway

[Pulpbot at xxx.com]

the holiday travel season is upon us, and lonesome cowboy Bill crushes the
mistletoe 'twixt his spurs, the mercury from the faded daguerrotype of his
beloved photoJenny seeping through his skin and tugging him toward sleep. Yes,
friends, the tumbleweed of 'ol England beats a quiet path; the dainty heather
of the Scottish moors dances in the rough winds, alone; the craggy hilltops of
Wales contemplate eternity; oh hell, it just bites to travel alone. My pal
Eran, his parole officer finally confident that he can be trusted without a
tracking device, is visiting London. Of course, no one wants to lounge the
days away on their own, and he is so very terrific a guy (funny, smart, has a
freakishly large record collection, is willing to chip in for abortions), and
so I am confident that the London listees will make like the baby Jesus and
share and share alike.   
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