The paint cracks on my baby blue wall. Chips fall upon me as I frown. "Babe hows the room coming along?" I here my wife call to me. "Going great, just need to grab some paint" I holler back across the fixer upper. "Well you better hurry... the Johnsons are coming over and I don't want to look a fool." Grimacing, I began my trek to the garage. About halfway down the stairs I slip upon some stair butter and tumble down the 3 flights. Lying in a crumpled heap with bone sticking out my wife comes upon me. "Oh Harold stop playing." I try to respond but my vertebrae has jammed through my throat and I can barely breath through. "Oh you're so useless with that weak spine and ugly face. Why did I marry such a heap of broken bones? Well I guess if I put you in the foyer I can say your some type of art piece. You know maybe the Johnsons will like a single lady moving in." And with that I became the best damn art piece you ever did see. Come check out the Sci-Fi power couple from the past with Bob Buel, TR, and Fancy Octopus as they read "Settle" by Anne Macleod and "Backtrack" by Burt Filer. 99 Questions: https://pod.link/1504738284 Check out our website buriedgems.podbean.com Any suggestions or comments? Feel free to email us at [email protected]