Don't Tell the Horses, the Stable's on Fire.

Anything for you. Turn my Castles blue.

It's hard some days to be tactful. Some people will never take no for an answer, and I'm often one of them. But I'm not worrying, soldiers, for I am armed with charm and a nimble-mind. I can talk my way out of anything... almost.

Supposed to be heading away for three days drinking and frequenting night clubs tomorrow. Unsure if I can handle the time away, especially in the Big Smoke. Say, anyone know a nice quiet spot where no one can find me? I've got few, and we can go together one day if you're keen. There are hidden paths dotted all around the lakes, and they lead places that people seldom take the time to explore. More beautiful spots you'd be hard pressed to find anywhere on this entire floating rock. We can paint pictures and carve our initials into tree trunks, hearts outlining them like we're love-struck by more than just the peace and quiet. I'll say I love this planet if you say that life is worth exploring it.

When the sun begins to set, we'll pull out a picnic and watch the world turn. I know where the birds go to sleep, and we can watch them settle in for the night, as if we're staring through the windows at our neighbours. It's a poor-man's Peeping Tom effort, but I bet it melts your heart, you fresh-faced kid. And when you look at me, I'll be busy pretending that all the beauty of the day has rolled off my back like the water off the duck's backs; that I'm as stoic as any man of the salt. My hands are rough, and my heart is hard. It's only the foundations holding it up that are a little creaky, but we can reinforce them with a little rum and coke. We'll talk about the eighties.

And by the time the moon is out we'll be driving the winding roads home. You can ask me questions about my past that I'll bluff my way through, and I'll make you laugh with anecdotes so outlandish that you'll swear I'm making them up. We'll lay separate mattresses on the floor and stare out the window at the stars. I'll say it's sad that the stars we see are already long ago burnt-out, and you'll look at me like I'm soft in the head. But you have a nice laugh, and it comes easily in the dark, so that we both know we're not alone. And anyway, if we didn't laugh we'd cry, and that's not appropriate at all, leather-hearts. We can talk about our childhood heroes, and you can giggle at the idea that I wanted to grow up to be a tiger. My mind's a little warped, but you'll see past that, I'm sure.

And when the sandman sprinkles the room we'll drift off to sleep to each others' breathless giggling. My mouth says things that my mind can't get hold of when I'm tired, and the combinations of nonsensical rambling will slither out the side of my mouth and onto the pillow like sticky strings of drool. Your last thought will be how nice the day has been, and mine will be that things can't possibly stay this good for long. I'll dream of cruel twists of fate and of losses I've endured. But forget that, you sensitive soul, because I'm stronger than that. Honest, I am.

How do you comfort someone when they've lost it all?