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Adventures (of) Ardent Alliterator

The future, said AA, is not bleak. The future is free.

Examinations, AA said, shouldn't make you disappointingly poetic. Ecstatic, he said, instead.

He always bracketed his thoughts this way. His bleak outlook was perfectly framed by the little 'not,is' statements. Ardent loved these word games. He was woefully willful when words wandered weepily, without meaning, without family. Family, he said frequently, fortifies the fervently flung phrases.

Ardent, despite his penchant for sounding humourous, was barely able to lift his lips to smile. Smiling, he said, is like sitting for a portrait and not knowing if you've got 20 bucks to pay the artist.

Sometimes, if no one was listening, AA would compulse himself into a compositional coma, collecting, coining, combining courted words into hammocks, slung 'twixt two trees--his tongue and his imagination.