When You Hear the Beep, It Will Be 3 O'Clock

The bearded statue with the obscene nose laughed maniacally at the floundering clouds filtering through the vestibule of its crowded mustache. Its monocled eye peered menacing through the vague traces of the absence of purpose. Grotesque hands caress the hilltops of our minds. His words dance as a dervish wrestling beneath the hidden confines of his own imagination.

There's a neighborhood in Seattle called Fremont. The vibe is aaaalright. There's this troll that lives under a bridge at the top of a hill. A hidden car from a long-ago accident disappears into the memory of its own purpose. I'm not making this up. I have the pictures to prove it. And because it has a beard, I figured I'd tell you about it. The mustache was pretty cool too. What to make of it all. I leave that to you.

See you.