NINE TWO TWO NINE NINE EIGHT
NINE TWO TWO NINE NINE EIGHT
By Ireland Riddoch
Mr. Wilbuster was an aberrant old man, although the tone in which he had adopted over the years was brimming with unrefined and idiosyncratic passion, bystanders often leaned in closer as he rambled away, anticipating a new mischievous encore after each pause for breath.
