Running and Screaming

Well, I visited old childhood friends a while back. The twang in the air could only signify certain truths. Pregnancy, previous births. Tits down to the knees and chickens in the front yard. My black-toothed friend motioned to me and said, "Child come round here. Haven't seen such fey arms on a body since Morrissey went solo"

I approached tentatively and offered up my arms to behold.

She turned them round under her discerning eye [the one good one] and spat on the ground. "Hairdressin' ain't got you nowhere."