A Blithering Literates Life

When they finally finished asking each other how many “r’s” were in that ancient curse word, the man had already straightened his back, uttered two more arcane obscenities and tarried off towards the jet pillars of smoke, rising with frightful consistency, in the distance.  A slight, foreboding grimace creased over his visage, though it could have been from the cracking of his back.  In any case, he seemed distraught, but looks can be deceiving.  Especially looks that had long lost their youthful pliability.  So, with a limp, he soldiered on down the road, continuing a journey with no beginnings in memory and no end in sight.