Dark Days

Dark days in Winnipeg and yet darker still in the unforgiving Tropic of Capricorn – feverish days of my preemptive paranoia of prying Paraguayan prefecture.

An encrypted telegraph from a Somali samaritan alerted me to several plots involving rancid beef tartare or devious designs of the utmost bizarre, in scenarios ranging from lazy lull to Gran Guignol. 

Assassination fixations involving the guillotine or poisoned Ovaltine were spurred by my investigation into the long since settled ham n' cheddar vendetta of the Queen involving spank party rags from a Cambridge dean or the greasy ghost of Edward Gein.