Like a giant sea anemone they swayed and winced.
"Yes, indeed, there is a Tarantula on The Flesh," Michael McCarthy & The Beautiful Fools warbled in jumbled unison. It was spider-swattin' season at the Hollywood Recording Studio. They came like lost barbed-wire clippings to tiptoe and lurk. They made Jenni Alpert Hop and Hoot like a cowboy-saloon-foot-shootin' show.

Out on the street that was as still as pea soup, jen bye had started to walk. She walked slowly, with large, grandfather-clock paces. She walked over texas in seven steps, silent and elated as a hot air balloon. Her longlegs carried her clear to Chester, Connecticut. She tip-toed into a stethoscope to listen for the patter of Micah Silver. He worked above a bakery, the sort that made tarts. He sewed taps onto worn shoesoles and thimbles onto mittens--- to help the extremities dance and thaw.