(. . .)

It began thusly: an elderly gentleman in the corner of the meetinghouse whispered into a paper cup, ruffling the edges of his coffee. ?Do we have a dissenting opinion?? But the question laid like dust behind the portraits. Then, the groundhog?s teeth snapped into a root. All present heard the sound through the open window, from green and shady yard.

The alderman raised his hand and covered his eyes. ?Those damn creatures are ruining our town,? he spat. ?With their chewing and gnawing!? A butterfly floated in and rested on the edge of a gilt frame. Sunlight clipped a section of the insect?s wing and bathed the room in vermilion. ?But for the grace of God, bring in the performers!? someone cried.

The performers arrived with a license, which was duly stamped and notarized, and then they proceeded to take off their hats. From underneath their hats exploded such torrents of hair, such wild knots and locks, writhing and grasping like tentacles! Laughter and applause from the gallery, a dim frown from the alderman. Never was their a man with a cooler nature to his blood, a man so un-impressible!

Loneliness fills the alderman. At times he believes he himself the only man in the world, or perhaps he believes himself the only ghost. He steps around dark corners, into the shadows. ?No one understands the weight of my responsibility,? he tells himself. Were someone to startle him enough, he might disappear in a fury of bats.

Cry for the alderman, dear townspeople, for we know he has murdered his darlings!

In conclusion: the city council determined that the weather will be what it is, that the problem of crime ?must be addressed,? and that the street festival will proceed as normal next month.

Until then, dear readers!

Signed: Secretary of the City Council