The Final Frontier …

Today is Monday, the 8th of October 2018.

Kylie is calling from Alaska. That has been one big of a jump from New Hampshire, the llama says. Did you know that the llama does not like flights and airplanes? They make it feel nauseous. Alaska is one cold of a place, full of bears and salmon and trees and mud. Kylie does not want to talk about stereotypes. Elks, there are also a lot of elks in Alaska. And it is way too close to Russia. In Alaska you can feel the war getting colder at once, they say. Kylie is still kind of worried and saddened. Her own personal Elvis has returned to his own beach bar on some tropical island. She might go there one day, the llama thinks. But it is not its' to predict the future. Can you prevail a future?

And in the end they both can hear Captain Kirk say,

SPACE – THE LAST FRONTIER

And from the depth of the universe I can hear the llama shout,

THIS IS ALL TOTALLY WRONG !!!

White Mountains High…

Today is Saturday, the 6th of October 2018.

Kylie is calling from New Hampshire. She asks where the Old Hampshire is and the llama thinks that is a very stupid question. Every man, woman and animal should know that Hampshire is a county on the southern coast of England in the United Kingdom and that the county town of Hampshire is Winchester. But Winchester is also a rifle. Kylie is freezing in Concord, the state capital of New Hampshire. And the llama says, she should not ask where Manchester, the largest city of New Hampshire, lies. The owner of the Eastside Motel and the famous tufted titmouses say it is going to be a long and cold winter. But they are refusing to light up the fireplaces in the motel cabins. Kylie was watching a movie the other day. And now she rather asks herself than that lame llama whether she could and should call the Ghost Rider a Burning Man. And always remember, Bromford Bibble,

HOT SPICEY MUSTARD 

CAN SOMETIMES MAKE YOU CRY.

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 29

Today is Thursday, the 4th of October 2018.

Where the F... is... Oh, OK. It is Bromford. It is always Bromford. I am here. I am here in Bromford...

:D :D :D

"Bromford"

Under a loop of stars in the vulgar cold

The dead airport lay

By the pebbles of the highway

Through the snail clouds

You soared to your lover

I hurried away my darling

With a howl in my throat

Hiding inside the weeds

In the orange grove

The black rooster crowed

Through the hollow of the midnight

With my shot blood

With stains on my fingers

I run with the damned, my darling:

They have taught me to laugh