Long story in a brief-case. The happy end to a half a story in a split level house…

The gasp and the harps, played by June Carter and the angels just a mile above the pillow that the silkworms blessed. Draw a lead color shirt from the wardrobe. Put it in the dresser. No. Hung it in the closet… to bury it in the hamper. It’s lovely. But not for the doorbell.

Or the finger that bends on it upon contact.

Or the eye peering in reverse through the peephole.

You’d need a jury, honey, you’d need a jury. Just keep looking.

It’s a satire what you can get away with when you haven’t any intentions to get away. In fact, come on in.