The other day I was leaving a business in Dupont. Well, it was not really Dupont, but I am taking poetic license to say it was Dupont because I do not seem to write about Dupont very often. Maybe it is because not much goes on in Dupont. Or perhaps it is because a lot goes on in Dupont, but I never hear about what goes on in Dupont.
Poetic license is a synonym for lie, but my lies are always harmless. For 25 years, when I wrote police reports, I was not allowed to embellish, lie, or joke around. Opinions were not allowed either. Now that I am retired, it feels great to have my freedom of expression back.
My byline is Westside Story. The name Westside Story developed because my writing mainly focuses on the West Side. The West Side includes The Narrows Bridge, West Slope, University Place, Lakewood, Steilacoom, and Dupont, and let’s not forget Tillicum.
Back to my story. So, the other day I was extricating myself from a Dupont business when I spotted a comment box.
Undaunted by the fact that I did not have a pen to use on the little green comment cards the business provided, I decided to make my comments verbally. You know me. I had plenty to say.
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