Through the gears
The mirror in the main hall reflects only
Grey hair and bags of sadness. And to think:
Yesterday I was feeling pleased with myself.
— I should have paid more attention to establishing myself as a brand, like Cillit Bang or I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter. People like brands. Brands do people’s thinking for them. Armitage Shanks is a brand, and look how far that has come from humble beginnings and in possession of limited talents. Half the world pisses and poops into it, and Armitage S. laughs all the way to the bank. But it doesn’t matter. I no longer rely on words.
— I can rely only upon myself, and I fall short. Sentences have nothing in them except an emptiness that weighs more than can be held. They show no mercy!
— I think a cup of tea might be a good idea. I shall go and put the kettle on.
– What? Do you mean to say that you are retiring from Pottery World, and will leave, never to return?
– I have no choice. I fail myself.
– But surely you will miss The Cake, and Unrestricted Sexual Adventures.
Hortense held the letter in her hand as if it were an order for household gloves instead of mittens.
Having decided to no longer capitulate, Mallory adopted a new style of headgear and headed out toward the headlands.
The proof was in the –
Oh, I don’t know where the proof was –
We had heard it was hearsay (or heresy)