Rbutler Knows

I have from a very reliable source that rbutler was very bad last Saturday night. Actually the word I heard was...evil. Who knows what debaucheries can be birthed by the side of Virginia Avenue at two and fifteen past the witching hour? Is he a late blooming graffitti artist trying his first hand at spray painting the pains of growing up short in a town full of tall bullies ? Did he stop to pick up the litter from a Varsity combo meal, and look toward the camera of the moon with a tear in his eye ? Could be..but not likely. Some would say, rbutler drank too much expresso at Apre, and stopped on the side of the road to catch up on a bit of pulp fiction. After all, it is not a strange thing for rbutler to see the dawn. If the Oxford bookstore was still open, one could surely say, he was just coming home after spending several hours purusing the magazine section for already opened copies of Juggs and the Rand McNally, "Complete Dirt Roads of Georgia" map collection. This things could have all been true, but there is one problem...they are not. Whether the details of rbutlers midnight ride will ever see the light of day, well your guess is as good as mine. I only know, there was more than the wind howling last Saturday night. You may have heard it, as you lay asleep, safe in your bed. You may have told yourself it was just the rain hitting the top of your neighbors old tool shed. Or maybe it was a tree branch, blown by the wind and scratching against one of your windows with it's long fingers. In the dark hours, you will tell yourself anything to get through the night.

What evil lurkes in the hearts of men...
Rbutler knows.