Apr 25, 2012

What Are Clothes For? Or Cows, For that Matter

The lad was buried in my finest suit.
“Och, Jamie,” said Kilcare, pointing his hawk nose at the coffin. “You were no end of trouble.”
 Old drunks and matrons bayed like red-eared hounds in the vestibule. “Now I must find someone else to paint my cows blue, mustn’t I?”


This one is dedicated to Anne-Marie Clark.

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