An English In Kentucky



















October 16th 2009

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    Miracle mole traps have arrived.   The box they arrived in was wonderfully unremarkable, and I should congratulate the fluidity of a system for the promptness of this delivery.  The Mole Hunter herself was unimpressed by the box, but she gave me a sharp razor with which to slit the box open.

   It was a moment when idea and real enter confluence.  I had for some days contemplated the trapping mechanism.  I had worried it to the point where I had possession of idea.  And the reality of the trap met this expectation, but while in that first tentative phase of confluence with the real I heard what I will describe as a candid aside from the Mole Hunter.



    As encouragement, I offered her a miracle mole trap to ponder over, and when I did so I knew well enough that idea had had less opportunity to form in her.  But in my own defense I will say that as a successful Mole Hunter herself I thought it safe to assume she owned understanding of lethality in pursuit of mole.

    Perhaps overconfidence was an ultimate cause, but suffice to say that after examining the wound in her leg, no hospital visit was actually necessary. 

    Now I am left with the distinction of becoming the "one who can set a miracle mole trap".  A most inglorious title, when put beside "Mole Hunter".

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tim candler

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