Gristle to his mill

Daedalus - Snooze Button
Buy it off Eastern Developments

Ken was driving Clive to Distraction, a village located a couple of heaved breezeblocks from Ken's house. The two had fallen into a routine ever since Ken had stopped and offered clive a lift from the bus stop. Clive was, at the time, surruptiously hugging the lampost next to the bus stop, in the hope that the cold steel, with its intertwined s', would reciprocate. He was rather embarrassed that he had been caught in such an act, and this disequilibrium persisted throughout their brief relationship. Every Tuesday the journey was punctuated by the roar of puddles tearing at the undercarriage of Ken's rust coloured rust-bucket and Clive's attempts to stem the gnawing solitude he felt in his gut. Today, Clive's astute criticism of legal realism in post-war America was only being met with baffled and distracted grunts on Ken's part. Clive, stupidly, took this as encouragement, and continued to plough his academic furrow. They were two straight men in need of a fall guy, and unless the lampost suddenly came to life, it didn't seem as if a solution was forthcoming.