Voltaic Junkyard--hey Bubba Cheese

   
   "Voltaic Junkyard--hey Bubba Cheese"
   
    Sheila recollected the residue of past memories; next, breathed herself in; then, breathed herself out, kinda going off like an atomic bomb, emptying the theater, and filling it only with herself and the Spirit.
   Hit so many times in the past, infused by way of false testimony, plotting, and every trick in the fake book to make her trip, yet a good right hand to the jaw usually settled things for her.  Like Frodo Baggins, that homely hobbit from her past, attempting to corrupt and smear her reputation as he hated himself, knowing that no matter how much money he had--he was still trapped in the body of a dumb dweeb, always wearing the noose of a necktie, and once, it got stuck in a mercurial shredder at his office as he was erasing his phony forgeries concerning Sheila; moreover, that unflattering salmon tie, hooked into light machinery, pulled his pubescent face towards the actuality of almost being shredded itself, until after a quick giggle, his secretary hit the cancel button, and the jerk-off remained on the planet for a little while longer.
   Yeah, Sheila knew they were all full of shit, so she built a wall around the junkyard, that sublime perimeter, to keep the contagious vermin from penetrating from what they couldn't have--control over her; plus, they were always pondering a slimy juggle of her bodacious breasts--she could feel it.
   She was filtering out all the darkness, it all culminating with laughter as she remembered telling a shrink:  "What about premonition?  What kind of mind-altering, brain-sedating medication are you going to give me for that?"
   Sheila flexed her bicep, grabbed a wrench, and tore down the big block of a Mercury armed with a 351 Cleveland.