Last night, some 26-year-old, suspender-sporting Romeo — I have no evidence that the young man was wearing suspenders, but I'm a sucker for alliteration — was zinged squarely in the buttocks by Cupid's arrow. The object of his desire is a strawberry-blond lass who apparently answers to the name Lindsay. Lindsay must be something special, because our boy posted a Craigslist ad complete with a meandering sort of free-verse poem about her. Here it is, in its entirety:
If fate is so glorious, wouldn't she have allowed you to get the young lady's number? Then again, are there phones in Modern Eden? There are shots of Fireball, after all.