Little Jimmy Jeffors
Little Jimmy Jeffors adored the sound of Industry. The hum and whirl of five finger treasures tickled his bum, and roused his appetite for more. His dear Mum warned him, scolded him, implored him, to disregard the whims of economy, but Little Jimmy Jeffors could not resist his rooted desire.
And he grew up stout with cash flow, and surrounded by gadgets, gizmos and plastic molded into the most wondrous of puzzles, but it was never enough for Little Jimmy Jeffors. He craved more, better, bigger, higher, louder. Until one day he quite simply blew up from the inside. His incessant plunge into his need for information blew his brains, and fractured a boy spirit animated by radio waves.
Little Jimmy Jeffors ceased to be. An implosion of circuits, chips, and cheap labor parts. His friends abandoned him. What good is a pile of rust and melted chemical? His Mum cried over him. Her tears sizzled on his frayed mechanics. Little eyeballs glowing red with lust. Crawl Little Jimmy Jeffors. Crawl. You can still scoot to the next great thing.
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