Day 474, Where's my T Rex

You spend years looking for one, it's not as if they're missable is it, what with their curly hair and twee elfin lyrical ways.

And then here it is.

Right under your nose.

Can you spot it?

Metal guru is it you?

Nope.

Is it sweating behind the meat counter?

Nope, it's there in front of you.

Not as obvious due to reflections from the sky and the wine sun that owns you.

Dug and redug and dug and redug redug.

Gibberish.

Getting impatient now.

How about two-up seven-right?

Bingo, you are the hot rod mama.*

* And relax.


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