Amos Hart--Interrogative

   
   "Amos Hart--Interrogative"
   
   Amos Hart was playing smooth and conductive metal in the theater of his mind, not harping on the keyboard, just a journalistic tendency to loathe the secrets of the dark--Enoch why are you asking these questions?
   It wasn't theological for Amos Hart, though he liked shepherds, short story prophets, and had a nucleus concerning the basics of kinda like what King Arthur was trying to drink, or whose blood rather, a babe born on Christmas, not a pagan holiday, but plenty just seamed in as lesser foundations are attracted to the more potent topic, like Jesus.
   A journalist doesn't hang, shoot, or kill.  Just words.  And yet the corporeal judges and killers sprint retreat after hanging a man @ noon, when the rooster has already run, and the hens are laying simple-man gold.  Most folks fancy steak.  Good cuts, lean, without the waste of deep chew, though some prefer the poor man's gristle, like a wolf's mouth savoring the savage basics.
   Amos bought the Olds.  Nice.  Smooth.  Multivocal.  And Bucko was right next to him.