(xx) Ike Kneesuffer's Snapshots

Well, sir, it's a delightfully mild afternoon for a day in mid-November as we stroll along Pleasant, Virginia, afternoon now. And as we approach the small house halfway up in the next block, we discern young Russell.

He's partaking of an after-screwed slice of buttered bread with sugar on it, and he lounges negligently on the top step at one. And at this moment a second friend of ours appears. Listen. Hey, sir, how you going?

Greetings, God. Come up the alley, huh? I sure did. I wanted to soak in the beautiful scenery. It is an awful nice thing. Oh, what you got in the sack? This is my sack. I don't have to tell you what's in the sack.

You go get a sack of your own. Oh, okay. I see you get the door open. It's such a warm afternoon. Mom told me to open it and let some of this nice weather in.

QEM left our front to open over five minutes at a time and a month. Where is Mom? In the living room? No. Upstairs. She can't hear you. stone blues or two car garage i've cooked up a little plop you know how mom's always heard me open the corner and making a look at

snapshots a guy's we never heard of well just today we had to go through a stack of pictures of my oldie pictures of this much more college married son piles and britishid response that's why she made us look at snap shot mister donald sister took on a vacation and it happened six dozen times

or what's your little plot I have in this paper sack here a collection of snapshots. Must be a lot of them. Plenty. Who they belong to. Nobody I... I get it. The way I come by him, I can use stuff for bottom self a second-hand death down at West Front Street today.