"Psychopathic Ramblings of Rich Kids" My best friend and I sat at one of the tables that was surrounded by purple velvet chairs at our favorite coffee shop, sipping on our mocha coconut lattes and talking on and on about what to do over the weekend -- whether or not to go up to the house in Connecticut, or just hang out at her place in the Hamptons. The hustle and bustle of 42 Street didn't seem to phase us one bit; it seemed normal enough to be just sitting there, waiting for Sean to meet up with us.

We stepped out onto the street, still waiting for Sean, and Tricia lit up a cigarette. "Sean. We're always waiting for Sean," she muttered, shielding the flams on her lighter from the wind that was blowing through the corridors that the massive skyscrapers created around us.

"Calm down Tricia, he promised he'll be here, and he'll be here," I reassured. Just then, I caught sight of Sean, walking down 6th Avenue wit his long duster jacket blowing in the wind behind him. He was wearing dark sunglasses, though the sun wasn't even shining, and had a goofy smile, plastered on his face. "See? What did I tell you?"

"Hey Sean! You know you're a half an hour late?" Tricia shouted a half a block away.

"Forgive me Miss Tricia, but you see I was caught in a comma trap down in the Village, and couldn't for the life of me escape."

Tricia and I looked at each other, then back to Sean. "Um, okay?"

"Sean, what the hell does that mean?"

He cleared his throat. "While down at Petra's apartment I stumbled upon some invisible paper with the most incredibly poem on it!" he exclaimed, ripping the sunglasses off of his face.

"Invisible..." I began, rubbing my chin. "Can I...ask you something?"

If we may trust a language we can talk," Sean replied.

"All right Sean, what did you snort, and or shoot, and or smoke before you decided to leave Petra's apartment and come up here?" Tricia queried, shaking the ask from her cigarette and folding her arms.

"Nothing at all. Petra and I were just shaking the dice box, purging our force-fed mistakes until we saw the letters fall from our names. That's when clarity's handle fell off," Sean replied. I did everything I could do to keep from laughing, mainly because i had no idea what in the world he was saying.

"Comma traps. Invisible paper. The dice box. Okay Gord Downie, can we have our Sean back?" Tricia asked, holding out her hand, as if to take something from Sean.

"Gord Downie?" Sean asked in return. Tricia and I nodded.

"Mmhmm. The one and only. You're rambling just like he does."

Sean smiled, and slid the sunglasses back on. "Cool." 1

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