… even though we ain't got scratch …
To: The Boss
Date: August 3
Let me say, from the start, yrUBbury was a Mud Daubers’ Paradise. A Mud Daubers’ Empire, too. Along this thread of once sparkling water, an entrepreneur laid an egg that hatched and multiplied. Naturally, at first they were all WASPs – a strange twist on nature and the Queen Bee, who would come later, not always as a beneficent factor. But the Mud Daubers built so much on so little. Soon it opened like a flower or a cancer – especially its railroad switchyard. And then, like rotting fruit, it fell. They fell. Are we, like vultures, now sweeping in?
Also, I don’t know what to make of this, but it’s a –bury, like Danbury, Glastonbury, Newbury, Southbury, and Waterbury. Not a –burg, -ton, or –ville, but oh-so Albion in its aspirations – to be twice so, coming and going!
The full Big Inca versus a New Pony Express Rider novel is yours at Thistle/Flinch editions.