Can you taste it?
I can. Or at least I can smell it, and it smells amazing.
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In front of the curtain
You’ve already seen more behind the curtain than you care to, I reckon.
Whittling
Or being whittled, anyway.
To sum it up, he/she/they/them/it isn’t/aren’t working.
But we are.
I’ll tell you next week.
Assuming I’m able.
Don’t worry, there’s plenty of pizza and pasta.
Still rippling.
You know, like an eel leaves when it comes to the surface.
Where’s the hidden camera?
What exactly is your game, mister?
The universe has got my back.
Despite any mild panic.
I want some of you to know this guy. Or even just one of you.
Fingers crossed.