There exists a place… a residual haven of deceit and soulless vigor, where puppies go unwalked, and children color outside the lines. There stands a damning fortress, high above the crescent flying of winged beasts, where needles pierce the grooves of curiosity, and terror and panic are served with chilled forks and a pleasing Malbec. Within this bastion of social awkwardness and mournful second guesses, pens run out of ink and toes are stubbed on the tables of frustration.
Echoes of sharpened nails crawling down chalky blackboards reverberate amidst its walls in a seemingly never-ending dark wave of tone-deaf enthusiasm. Exhausted shrieks from drifting shadows recoil to an almost deafening growl, where the mist of hope lingers throughout the dank, stale air, never to be realized again. Few will enter… none will leave.
Be cautious of its intentions, for its walls are painted with deceit and its floorboards carved out of bashful fibs. Seen only by those who share with its gruesome banalities, this lair of organized filth goes by the sadistic moniker, The Prudent Groove.
Happy Halloween, kids! (Insert maniacal laughter here)
I’ve stubbed my toe on the table of frustration many times. Ouch.
(Nice post – could only bear to read it after the dangers of Halloween were safely past)
Many thanks, good sir! Any decent thrift store finds lately?
Sadly, no. Thrift stores (or ‘Opportunity Shops’ as they are quaintly known in these parts) are not the rich picking fields that they seem to be in the US. Wonder if any travel companies run ‘Thrift Shop and Garage Sale’ tours?
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