What Friends Are For

There is a gross disparity between our defenses. My heart is plated in nickel while yours has the inexperience of soft tissue. So it is incumbent upon me to make the bulk of concessions. Bring what beats near, and I will unplug my blender. Every cleaver will be hid away in their assigned drawer. The old pictures shall go back into their binders to spare you of a needless album of conquest. As a buffer, you may invite no greater than six in your company to act as unwitting cover. Do not tell them they are breathing fail safes. No friendship survives the knowledge of being drafted as an involuntary sacrifice. Yet their procession would secure your timely escape should I eat my promise. Every needle has found a home in a corresponding spool. The pots have no boiling water and pans are not greased down with lard. Organ meat is a delicacy of careless youth. My belly has seen more starch and plants in my advance years. Draw close and find my touch to be without threat. My speech is agreeable. I do not quarrel like was my habit of earlier years. We can embrace, shake hands, or exchange smiles. There will be no quibbling over custom. Select which ever feels most natural to you. The metallic pressure against your temple registers as a cold compress. However, it is a crude can opener. Secrets are sealed away in thoughts, and who more qualified to retrieve them than a six way extraction team most familiar with your private utterances. They will turn for me, and I will catch, then pickle for later use.