Get ready for some leaving, silly city of not too much value. Goodbye, incorrect assumptions about what is important. I personally don't want to have to eat another Toyota to figure this puzzle piece out, and luckily it's going to be easy to hop to another pony.
This pony will be one of my creation, not a sleek inherited racer fed on brain grains. This pony will be a spectacular divination of color and texture, wrapped in a coat of handcrafted joy spackle. Then I'm gonna ride the pony around the yard and it'll fart out little rock candy spheres, filled with an inner layer of truth creme like a Cadbury yolk minted in god's own backyard distillery. Yes, god is a bootlegger and he doesn't give a fuck. Let me get back to the pony.
So then I'll take the pony into town on the A-line, unless traffic is all stupid because of the holiday. Then maybe I'll go to the library to return that opera cd I checked out by mistake, and when I'm checking out a copy of Bob Dillinger's "If It's Not Purple, It's Not Infected" and get hit up with a 10 cent overdue fee from the cd the pony will pull out a 50 cent piece from some pouch or something and save my ass. I LOVE YOU DREAM PONY!