It's claw time. He walks with his claw-on-a-stick along the freshly mowed median. He's kind of swinging the claw-stick lacadaisically, but his face is serious. Serious because he's just chopped all the trash that was in the grass to bits with the lawn mower, and now he's got to decide what pieces are big enough to bother clawing out of the lawn, I suspect.
Ladies and Gentlemen, due to an unfortunate new seating arrangement here, the Business Park Observer will be unable to continue its coverage. The Observer staff regrets this development, and apologizes for any inconvenience it may cause, especially to anyone whose job requires them to know when the UPS truck has arrived, or whether or not claw-on-a-stick man is clawing at the lawn with his claw.
The semi-darkness of the author's new work space offers a view of things far, far less interesting than what was available in the environment of glamour and suspense provided by the Business Park, but in the event that it produces a new publication, a link to that will be posted here.
Thank you for visiting.
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