Friday 26 November 2010

#53: Crew Damnation Caller

He arrived with a sassy shave-and-a-haircut rap upon the door.
When he doffed his fedora you saw horn nubs he'd tried to hide
under tinsel, which had rather the opposite effect.

'Afternoon madam!' he exclaimed, and immediately began
demonstrating some sort of vacuum cleaner
that could also creosote a fence, or so

he claimed, smirking toothily while you squirmed.
Naturally, he hedged when you asked about payment.
Something about a contract, non-monetary,

tongue whipping about his lipless mouth,
toe-talons testing the crazy paving.

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