As she pondered why the gate to the storage facility refused to open, Ginger touched the tip of her finger to her nose.
Nosey paradoxes beset the entrance to the kingdom of olive groves and purple mazes. Amazing candles of onyx green emerged salubriously from the very land that Ginger felt she belonged to, only centuries fore and aft. After the wheezing engine coughed up a lug, paradoxes of great pitch and momentum climbed through the wormhole of desire and set up camp where none but the DMV cared whose car you arrived in or whether you will or whether you won’t. Wilted statues of statutes of limitations bound the throng in an angry simmer, but the glimmer of another hope dashed the fever dream of orange and garlic tapestries.
Ginger put the car in drive and drove through the stubborn gate and all the way to the nose of noisy paradise.
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I kinda knew this in a (non-arrogant) way. But I didn’t know salubriously. Except that it’s related to the D.M.V. That, and Ginger (if pictured) is a brunette. That seems fitting.
Everything is related to the DMV, as you very well know. Even Ginger’s brunette hair as sung by Blondie’s heart of glass.
Truth revealed
And emerged…at the margins.
The gutters is where you find the real action. And a recipe for giblet gravy.
That’s what Mitch said!
😀
Not a chance, she was looking for George