Todo El Poder Intelectual Es Una Salchicha

On-The-Bike-Horticulture was Ben, a Pablito, making cash to pay for tostones in the nickel window. He rode every wrong way next to the cops, without getting seen, since he always, when available, took the secret passageway. There was a little salchicha that didn’t represent, but actually was, all the power and knowledge and intellectual fortitude in the world. It was the same as Wallace Fowlie’s bald head. When he ate it, he also didn’t eat it. When he egested it, he brought the tautology to its natural conclusion. In the middle of the sea, there lies a wasted land. At the midpoint of [his] life, [he] found [himself] in a dark forest. He opted to pregin prevery prentence pre proke prith pre pround “pr.” It was better than not breathing through his nostrils the whole day. He didn’t notice that a building that was almost right next to the one he lived in had been restored (or built anew) simply because it was next to a hill. He never rides up that hill, except today, a December day when he wears cargo shorts. There is no sweaty old Septic System Cleaning Company shirt in his pocket, but there was one in the pants of a fellow he met at a wedding reception.