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FIRST NIGHT, HANUKKAH... 1938, SOMEWHERE WITHIN THE DEEP BACKWOODS OF SOUTH TEXAS, NEAR PALESTINE... EVEN THOUGH OCCURRING SIMULTANEOUSLY - DEEP WITHIN THE VERY CENTER OF BRENDA’S NUT FARM OF PRESENT DAY ARKANSAS... A STATE OF MIND...

A TIME/SPACE CASUALTY... A PREDESTINED, THOUGH UNANTICIPATED MALFUNCTION WITHIN WHICH IDENTICAL EVENTS WERE OCCURRING DURING WRONG TIMES IN RIGHT PLACES... SOMETHING LIKE THAT... A GLITCH? WHO NOSE? DOG KNOWS!...

LEOMODGE WASHINTUN RESTRAINING HIS SQUIRMING PET CHICKEN, MARTHA ANN... DESPERATE TO LIBERATE HERSELF... EYES WILD FROM CONCERN THAT MEG MIGHT HOOK HER...

BUT WITH MEG’S PRIMARY INTENSION BEING ONE OF LIBERATION - NOT CAPTURE... HOOKING LEOMODGE’S SMOKING BUTT... PERHAPS SMUDGED FOLLOWING BREAKFAST, THOUGH RETAINING ADEQUATE HEAT TO PERMEATE ANY INSULATING PROPERTIES OF LEMODGE’S (MARTHA’S?) YOLK...

IT WAS AN ALL-OUT UN-NOMINATED, FUTILE EXERTION... POINTLESS, AND POTENTIALLY DIAPHANOUS... VISIBLE ONLY TO THOSE WHO MAY HAVE BEEN THERE - WHO MAY HAVE SEEN... TO THOSE WITH ADEQUATE ROOM BEHIND THEIR EYES TO CONTAIN IT ALL...