In the wee hours of Labor Day I had another confusing dream about my future wife Sandra Bullock. So when I got up later I went straight up to the STARBUCKS location by the Hwy.99 crossroads in Lynnwood, Washington.
Then right after I sat down outside with my cup of Joe, some 27ish mother in a limestone 4-wheeler pulled out with a warning sign on her rear window that said, "A WITCH AND HER LITTLE [adopted] MONSTER ON BOARD." As another car drove by bearing white and black Texas plates.
No wonder I never got married again, after my French wife suddenly died on me for no explicable reason in LAST TANGO IN PARIS.
Fool me once, fool me twice...
Gregory Scott Relf's
TWO WITNESSES NEWSLETTER
GREG'S FRIED TROUT: Melt down a $2 pound of cheap priced American style butter; then draw from the salty vegetable oil bottom residue from it for your skinless pour over with a few drops of almond extract and a dash of fresh chopped basil.
Goes well with a fresh bag of fried frozen garlic tater tots and a tossed green salad vingegrette.
PS WOODY ALLEN: Your money is worth nothing in this little funky western town. Said the bartender to the mad liberal writer at the TRUMP resort hotel ball room bar in THE SHINING.
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