This font with cigarette burns comes with a mystery train.

Smudges travel diagonally:  I should have quit while four drinks ahead and still half-dressed.

Now:  my grandmother's handwriting on a neurotic iguana.

The recently dead sends their regards:

_Your spelling habits are the better part of your life.

Everyone knows you call the ghost-writing service.

Everyone knows you keep asking for Lucille._

I wasn't suppose to notice errors until the 12th.

The fertility clinic north of the asterisk is closed on Wednesdays.

Multi-colored fish aggregate around the irritated colon.

A correction pen covers all my tracks:  49 days of popular girls shitting America.  
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