Oh Volodya, how could you?

Didn't you go to Spring Creek Elementary? Mr. Shawver's fifth grade class, right? Me? Paul. From out of the blue, speeding headlong to nowhere fast. A dash of nihilistic pretension. Just a dash. You don't want too much of that stuff. Fleeing Rachmaninovian tedium. It should be underlined in red. The future was there. Well, it had been at one time. Before eating that bullet. Always wash your hands first. Boil the water. Always boil. Sing it to the heavens. Spit it on the streets. Ahh yes! PG3476. But which cutter? Hmmm. Hmmm? There is enough. Maybe too much. Cubist digression to throw the hounds off the scent. Dear Lily. Tiger. Water. Brik. Brick. Pardon. Border stone.