Under no conditions, least of all the horrible to be found in the midst of the blistering summer of the north eastern quarters of parts heretofore unbeknownst to man nor beast, we find Alexander's final resting place, sacerdotal Babylon.
Or, rather, we specifically don't find Alexander's final resting place, but the ellusive and decidedly less Persian etiquette. And it's quite old, however useless, at this juncture.
So you were a young one once, full of verve and vim, and, more than likely, vigour, as well. Ready, oh yes you were ready.
And wearing an only slightly borrowed shirt, trousers, and tie. The women in the audience are regretfully disallowed in this example, as we all know quite well that women would disdain to count a shirt and tie and trousers that had once either belonged to the aforementioned person or some rather closely related other person that was now being rented back at a deplorable and completely unmindful of the time the collection of clothing was leant in the kindest of spirits mark-up price as slightly borrowed. And, while disdaining in such a manner, failing to be caught dead in such a get-up. And slightly bothered, though delightfully forgiving in the way that women can be, if, perchance, one were to show up at her door in such an array.
Especially if it were wrinkled. And perhaps a bit stained around the lapels. Though with similarly coloured enough stains that they might be unnoticeable to someone walking past a very fast clip.
But, alas, such scenarios are inescapable, even in the best of times.
Which is why, if I can just find my bloody pants, I believe this evening will go fine.
disclaimer:
Waxing sentient for a bit, I do believe that there is a certain "spring" in the air, a certain optimism, a grand sort of triumph.
Again, all brought on by a fortune cookie.
Yer Weekly Horoscopes. got a bit of sugar on your lip, there.