He was tired from all the talking so he laid down on the Rattan Lounge Chair to rest his mouth and brain. He pondered that he said too much. He *did* say too much. Must have been all the truth serum he was injected with day before yesterday at the dentist still working some of its wicked magic. No more soda! she warned. “I *don’t* do soda,” he exclaimed to this, and so the shot, the getting out the truth. Dentists in Lemon Free State are allowed to do that these days. Some blame the Sprite campaign back in ’95, but that was a more pristine and refreshing drink than others. So mouths one of the Hills, the bigger one, the one who Mike called his greatest player ever. He left himself open for foul play with that. Down the line it leads to the unethical dentists, the doctors who would rather perform surgery than reveal truth. We, as a society, are being *poisoned*. I’ll say it again. *Poisoned.* What say you to that, Mike, Grant?
Just as I thought.
So Zach Black defended himself afterwards to the dentist, remolding his words and saying that it was a combo of both lemon *and* lime. Together they make one fantastic *clean* drink. It was a fruitless argument and both knew it at the time.
—–
“So tell me more about this Oracle. *Mark*.”
(to be continued)
Sunklands 