Bravin’s Tub Window

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The prepack regained beneath rainy skies, we meet the Chariman in the bath. There is no summer tub. So says Father Bravin. The winter has killed back the palms and the tub space is open and airy. Our return to the Vendetta is calling, so we shower and go, honoring the absence of Barrett with a Van Halen changing room song. Dave saves my flat with his tube and tools. Damn road glass! Blockwalk boom has me sufficiently “trinitized”. Wait an hour for sister and brothers to finish their painful attempts on the board. Don’t know why I waited. It could only be another swift kick in the teeth by Bravinheart and the Good King. They simply have God on their side right now. This can be evidenced by Dan’s kielbasa. You really should see it. In the aftermath, I find myself dazed and confused, preposterously clearing whiskey glasses and unnecessarily fixing my gloves. I ride part way home with the Sober Escort as the Existies feather the Nest.