The Biter took his throat out and threw it at me.

"Weren't expecting you so soon"

I was playing a little game of sneaky feet. Judy, my co-worker, was munching on crawfish while the Biter waited for another taste.

Preoccupied as Judy seemed, when I stepped feather footed near her, she puttied her forearm and snapped my lower tibia.

"That's the kind of sneaky foot that will get you killed, Shit."

Stammering "Judy, I, I, but I didn't mean to be more than half sneaky. Besides, didn't you hear the Biter spoil my entrance after throwing his throat at me? Look, it's the truth, I brought your good friend the Biter with me"

No Judy didn't like it. Ugh to her five bagwax full of crawfish.

"I can't smell you come in unless you are munching on another tortilla."

Judy doesn't like tortillas n' Judy doesn't sneaky foot. Heck, what does Judy know?

"That's it Judy I'm 'phoning it in'"

"Don't dare, Shit"

"M'am, I'm 'phoning' whether you like it or not"

The Biter, or Alveoli (the Biter's birth name), interjected. I couldn't make out his mumblings but I saw he was starting to take his pants off.

"If I were you, I'd take the scrubs off first 'cause a uniform is never rebellion"

"If I were you, I'd munch another tortilla without being on foot all day and then not worry about the sound of my footprints"

"Are you getting all this, Gap?"

Camera one nodded. The intercom snapped on.

"Yes" said Standifer Gap. His reply echoed and the s tail of the yes word took on the form of a rattle and bit the Biter's pants off (that's what they mean by irony or metaphor of their words?). But I wasn't so sure and I wished I had a tortilla back five minutes ago so I could munch it and not get my lower tibia snapped.

"Mean ol Judy, now you see?? Gap Boss is peeking at your blue eyes to judge your dreams and get what you deserve"

"I don't give a damn Shit and dare don't ever walk across the walkway and into our side of the building with feet or tortillas or any questions. The left palm is the dividing line. Understand your limits -- don't cross it dummy"

"Well, I won't just as long as you don't 'phone' me in no more to go over the 's' curve up to PARADISE PAVE and knock on Dial's door just to get attacked by Dial and knocked over the head by him with an oxygen tank. It was almost too much. I came out of a heavy spell to smell:: one: Dial's oxygen nose hose; two: house chocolate; three: odors from under folds of fat; and four: crawfish;"

Camera one backed me with a nod.

"I knew it. Thank you, Gap Witness. I knew you were with me all of those times. When I put back on last night's dreams like slippers (or this is what they mean by irony or metaphor?) I knew you could see me and no one else. To be completely honest, Gap and Judy and Dial and Alveoli, I can't say for sure what was the dreams or what you are doing now. For instance, Judy, are you really eating crawfish in the CPAP department next to the copy machine with peanut shells all over the floor while I dump your orange aluminum into a can liner? And did Dial really knock me over the head with the oxygen tank in the nude, or did he still have his pajama bottoms on?"


The whole gang at the HAND REPORT would like to say:
"Out of the HAND HOTEL
and deep into PUSHTOWN
the peregrinations have simply begun!
get right with LILA first before it's final"

to book the night of your life,
send $10 to our feeble night auditor, Rick Weaver,
812 Park Ave
Chattanooga, TN 37403
in return, you will receive
sounds, visuals, texts, blessing,