The end of an era

I know its been a spell since I forked over a flannel mouthful of fuss. And it ain' t because I've been full as a tick, roostered, or half seas over neither. Nope. Seems we got a spoke in the wheel. Not on account of any ole body, but just because sometimes things all come a cropper all by their lonesome. So nobody go running around with the scuttlebutt, waking up the wrong passenger. Yet I do reckon I feel I got it in the neck a bit. And I sure wouldn't mind throwing up the sponge and heading to the bone orchard because at this point in the semester I don't care a continental. Then again, I don't want nobody thinking I'm just trying to beat the devil around the stump. Politics. One thing I will say is that both of my mentors, the Big Bugs, are all aces-high, game as banty roosters... teaching a croaker half way between hay and librarian to fight like Kilkenny Cats.