Black vapour

Impermeable to the persistent nag of the sprinkler ban, the naughty boiler lets off steam to bolster the eye shadow of the moon. Unrolling the liquorice, black goddess of the twisted palates, speeding politely to the honed vanishing point. Zero to nought in the blink of a flashlight, encrusted in the metaphysics of endless permutations, you witness the booting of the fragile vapour valet emptying his water wallet.