a knife fight for a citrus drink

A Knife Fight for a Citrus Drink

Maneuvering watch is set, captain. We're ready to get

the great cleansing that we suffered twenty years ago

such attention, and that all of this would improve her image

packed to the gills with radar, sonar and radio equipment

brushed up against the glass, and for a moment everything

let out a single ridiculous sob. Then I laughed at myself, applied

highly trained in arctic maneuvers but untested in actual

pollen on a summer breeze. There is money, slips of paper

walking slowly but it felt to me like we were standing still

answering, all back two-thirds. One hundred feet up

there’s a group of twenty or twenty-two approaching,

arrived at what looked like a fancy private residence but

we don't believe in going on a mission totally

catching in the flowers that had sprung up through

the language I was speaking, building simple sentences.