TIME HONORED by Philip Nobert
Oh he knew. The rare air he played in made it so. So it was a bit of a surprise when he found himself three sheets and a couple of comforters to the wind, face up in a Toledo bowling alley. And not the good, computer keeps the score kind, no, this was a forgotten shit-hole, full of toothless wonder and flat ale. "No dessert for you Pete", he thought. Then he wept.