January 23, 2013

The Fashion Statement rolled a last cigarette with one hand held aloft in defiance. The onlookers murmured heartfelt admiration. The Captain of the Guard removed his sunglasses and wept openly, cruelly. The order was given, and the Squad advanced with outstretched plume feathers. The tickling commenced, and The Fashion Statement writhed on the ground in the rusty red dust. Its golden sash besmirched, its scarlet cravat in disarray, its broad brimmed green velvet hat falling away, The Fashion Statement gasped a final flurry of giggles and expired. The onlookers murmured heartfelt admiration and slunk away.

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