Friday Night Flight

I have the night to myself. The kids are gonna get tucked in at my ex’s and my squeeze is home busy channeling the latest Sparks novella On Demand style, with phone calls straight busting the seams of the come chill of night. She’s got all manner of sexy proverbs laid out straighter than a Royal Flush ready for my getting.

And for cool, how can it possibly get better than the company of a cat named Mr Speaker, dressed all in black with nothing to tux into on a Friday night? He’s dressing my digs in the proper set of tunes as if by Morgan Freeman narration. His maladjusted self is sweeping me into a late night date with Double Down on Netflix as my laptop gently weeps out another page of a book I’m strumming.

The music is obviously cool. And this one happens not by accident, but cause it’s one of the coolest songs ever.

Objectively speaking.

 

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