Ordinary Brown Alpine Gangsta Brother

Common Alpine Butterfly

The cachet of mainstream automobile rust rests a little heavy on Yannick’s shoulders, but it’s variable, a brown with orange patches containing several black spots, and the largest spots have a white center. I thought it was a shirt until I got close enough and noticed he never took it off, and right there underneath was an ordinary brown, in front of a grayish-brown with black spots.

I didn’t think he was all that weird though until I saw him eating grass in the beautiful moist meadow we had hiked to as if we were something he did every day. When I looked closer I could see he moved especially slow and straight and close to the ground but with a sense of hovering over it. He didn’t stop often or long.

Yannick’s little brother had this hoodie he nearly always wore, laterally striped with green and a light brown like he was trying to be some kind of well-prepared urban environmentalist then. Oh socialism, oh communal gangdom, oh yester and vitamins, I joked with him, but he just ate more grass. And you smother go bang bang, I said, irritated.

Finally he looked at me and just said, Super, and Yannick laughed, and my ignorant camel refused to go any further in that direction. He knows there’s a loser on his expression and he doesn’t care. Thoughts and prayers go out to those who must coexist with the young.

Returning to the dry hillside from the flowery moist meadow, I kicked the bun that had fallen upon the pathway, but before my foot reached it, it had turned to stone, and it kicked me back without moving.

That’s when I noticed there’s a little bit of ask on Yannick’s nose, so I did, and he holds onto his keys and blows on his heated leftovers, but he’s a little too prompt to pull the trigger and we let it go.

Now it’s only me keeping my hat from failing, and Yannick doesn’t wear one. Sometimes I speak bat or crow, and always I am surprised how much I agree with them. A bevy of gravediggers hover and dart near the disturbed earth. The vein in Yannick’s little brother’s forehead swells and pulses with indignation, which is a form of anger that believes it’s right about everything and peculiarly alpine.

Belated Analysis of the Revisions to the Prison System

Common Blue Butterfly

Silver-blue to violet-blue with dark margins appears on the males, usually without forward cell marks, and on the females a completely brown covering or with blue restricted to the shoulder bases, with or without forward cell marks. Beneath, both genders appear pale or silver-gray to cream-tan or brownish with a black spot forward and black or white spots behind, sometimes a marginal crescents row (often very faint) is absent or limited to a few rust-colored forward spots, prominently encircled with or replaced by white. There’s a bar near the rear cell below, more white than black. These are patterns recently released prisoners are familiar with, their eggs a delicate green, laid on lkupine (over 40 species recorded but usually only one used in a given area, harrier variety preferred).

Every witness was another organically hinged part, another elaboration.

The residual eggs are covered with short white hair, and have many diagonal marks along the sides. They overwinter half grown, like all prisoners. The birth cylinder is green with a red-brown on the abdomen, and if they emerge at all, it’s within a few weeks. There’s only one season to this cycle.

In these delicate blue eyesores, the innocent convince their flaws to abate them.

Individuality appears vertical, from sea level to over 10,000 feet, including coastal sand dunes, mountains, valleys, meadows, streams, sageland and roadsides. They’re always close to lupines. Survival rates are highest in British Columbia south to southern California, east to Saskatchewan and the Dakotas, Nebraska, Colorado, and south to eastern New Mexico.

A dozen subspecies account for their appearance elsewhere. One, the Mission Blue is endangered, the crime of which they have been convicted no longer a crime.

Brainwash these innocents, as plants are brainwashed by light and grow useless wings, as readers are by words.

Why does the snow fall so gently when the cold is still angry?

Homeless Vampires Using Your Favorite Toothbrush

Common Branded Skipper Butterfly

The problem is small, variable, tawny orange above, with brownish border and spots, the male brighter than the female, with a black stigma, often with a lighter streak down the middle, similar on both top and bottom. Forward, the problem is ochre to olive or brass-colored with a curve of spots enclosing the inner comma, semicolon or “U” of further spots. The rear spots are generally bright white, silver or a light yellow. The organic defense system includes long clubs, a quarter to a third of the shaft length.

Newer recruits are whitish or pinkish, hemispherical, mildly seasoned ones yellowish or cream-colored with dark heads. The “matures” present dull green and build the silken shelters. They arrive by way of a green or brown chrysalis. There are many false impressions of their behavior.

The solution appears to contain areas of pine bluegrass and red fescue in California, grasses elsewhere. A loose cocoon is spun of silk and debris. Nothing happens in winter. Everyone just waits for a consequence. There is only one, but like life, it remains complex.

The problem frequently resides for extended periods in the boreal openings, upon the tundra, the subalpine meadows, the sage lands and the foothills of Alaska east to Labrador, south to Maine, the Dakotas and the Southwest.

I have also lost my former understanding. My body’s looking for it, and from time to time, it lets me think I’m deciding where, but the pilot’s not in the cockpit, despite youthful appearances. This is the one thing he comprehends clearly.

Right now I’m walking my spillage to the nearest receptacle, which happens to be named Robert.

Hush child. You’re only a man tomorrow.

Uncovering the Sighs Disclaimed as Passion Redacted

Common Checkered Skipper Butterfly

Vernon stopped wearing soup for a day or two. He can be extremely variable, quite blackish above with little white checkering (especially if he were female) or he can be very pale with broad bands of white spots (particularly in the males), usually with some black at the base and often with considerable bluish hairy scaling. Lower is similar to upper with all Vernons but paler, a pale eggshell-white to yellowish behind, crossed by two major and two minor rows of olive-tan to olive-green spots normally linked into solid bands, outlined finely with black or brown scales, fringes checkered with gray and white Vernon soups.

The menu changes from green to cream-colored before hatching, but the many-legged grubs can be very determined to become tan with a darker median line, brown and white side lines, and with a black head. The soup bowl is leafy and enclosed, greener toward the head and browner toward the tip. It has dark speckles and dashes in bands.

The soup base is composed of plant mallow and offers several successive broods, most commonly found in foothills, along weedy plains, in fields, near roadsides and riverbanks, in the valley bottoms, and the gardens, vacant lots, and parks of more urban areas. They are served from southern Canada to Argentina but remain absent from the northwestern states and north of Massachusetts. Vernons can be highly aggressive and territorial and have been known to shift their culinary attentions to hollyhock, hibiscus and cheeseweed in the smaller towns and villages.

The more sophisticated Vernons present money-colored, which means green and usually distant and a little pale from undue attachment to security vaults and distant bank accounts. Their only verbal statements are numerical. They can be quite annoying, like a nosey waitress who calls everyone honeybuns and cheats on her taxes just enough to get caught. They seldom find themselves beneath the burden of anyone caring too much about them, but they are peculiar and thus can be endearing to the true seekers.

They are not a pod of sorry zombies, or a disinterest multiplying. They are neither thistle thoughts provoking you, nettle nods inflamed, nor longing sufficiently delayed to result in a very nervous sort of patience. In receiving their gifts, there was no martyr, no gifted fool.

Sydney’s Musical

Common Roadside Skipper Butterfly

The holes in the story of Sydney’s shirt want to know why I prefer them.

Without the shirt, they would only be everything.

With the right mistakes, Sydney’s as wealthy as a Tuvan throat-singer.

It’s all right if I pretend I’m my brother, even if I don’t have one, says Sidney.

And Sydney’s right though I doubt Sydney’s brother would be equally inclined to life in the grasslands and moist mountain meadows that Sydney prefers.

Extended Sydney prefers a voice long and triangular. He’s not just his brother, but fringed and checkered and clearly expressed, his upper parts dark brown with clusters of white marks near the apex. Underneath, Sydney’s dark brown, dusted with bluish violet on the outer third of his extensions.

Once Sydney was light green, but he found that troubling though safer in its appearance of plantlife.

Alas, Sydney shall have but one brooding.

Along comes an exceedingly beautiful Western Tanager a bit out of its normal territories. He admires Sydney. He cannot believe his good fortune in meeting him. He fawns and fawns,

and opens him like a satchel.

Inside there is a modicum of survival and good health, now feasted upon, but it’s impossible to tell which parts of the Western Tanager Sydney plays.