11.01.00
Sometimes I am horribly confounded by technology.
Twice tonight I have written a poignant essay about my maternalistic mother hen instincts that strangely manifested themselves at a smokey bar on Halloween.
Twice tonight has the software I write this pap on decided that my words weren't worth the pixels with which they were written.
Suffice it to say that in the search for a missing boy in a purple nighty, black satin panties and black fishnet thigh-highs (no shoes), I saw a girl wearing a pink cowboy hat peeing in an alley, and I experience some angst. I never found the boy. Hopefully he isn't dead in some alley I didn't search.
Perhaps some benevolent soul drove him home. Perhaps he found his way to where the vinyl-clad hoochies roam free. Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps.
That's enough for now.
