"Paint the black hole blacker, paint the black hole blacker."
Trust me, you don't want me investigating you, the black-haired Barbie doll of small words. The foolish fiery princess hath already silenced me with a royal decree, censored with black ink and scented with the sweetest scent. I'm sorry the Knight of Alta mounted his high horse and rode off into the Chinese Rising Sun, but you may not fool me into dark alleys of toadstools and crusty men with smoking mouths. Knight of Alta puts on his coat, lets the peasants kiss the jewels upon his hand, and is on his way. H-E-L-P, I'm reading a note from the Queen, help me decipher it. Smith & Wesson, large and silver, pointed in my direction, held by a small girl. It's okay if you get your foot stuck in a bear trap every once in a while.
Mary, no one else can see it. I'm sorry. I tried. These people are wrapped in wool from their eyelids downward.
Some call me a scrivener behind a screen, eyes damaged and voice muffled.
I stood on the porch, pistol at the ready. She was too fast.
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