| (You could go match all your neighbors' socks while you
wait for this to download. W.B. got carried away) f
It is not clear how long X had been scoping the valley--the only thing that is certain is that many of the fleet fleet runners felt fleeting moments of some presence that was likewise--you guessed it--fleetingly flickering on the horizon, invisible yet there. It was X, all right. Waiting with his x-isthouse at the ready while the scoper scoped. X was pleased and felt he had found a home for the hordes of x-tra smalls that would flow in when the time was ripe and pungent.
|