What's It Sound Like, Indeed

The pitter-patter of four collie feet,

And thuds as she finds a good place to hide,

Alert me even more so than the beat

And drum of thunder, that I must abide

Another thunderstorm. At last a flash

Is visible from my seat at my desk.

They're brief but powerful, these storms; alas,

Though, little rain accomp'nies them out west

(This June so far's had plenty rain but it's

Anomalous that way). Speaking of sound,

The Mud Room of Squee brought on quite a blitz:

Blue Snowflake, welcome to my toybox. Found

On Amazon, and harnessed soon to make

Some sounds to cause th'internet to quake.

In Which I Face A Weird Dilemma

I am returned, and so pleased to have found

In what I've christened my Mud Room of Squee,

My own pre-ordered copy, strangely bound,

Of J.C. Hutchins' print debut. How he

And Weisman pulled out all the stops! It's come

With a great heap of horror-flair to sift

Through and investigate as I do thumb

Its pages. Where to start, though? I'm adrift.

I've called to hear Zach Taylor's voice mail bit,

And poked around the Brinkvale website, natch.

The podcast prequel gave some hints that fit

My expectations, but there's e'er this catch:

Play with the items, follow where they lead,

Or first open the book and start to read?