I can't believe Fib Sunday

What will we do when the money's gone, hen? I'm not asking Cher for another loan. She charges 49.9% typical APR.

Thank God I've got Fib Sunday to take my mind off of my corporate and financial worries. A life in the workhouse now beckons.

Shit.

And double shit.

Did Oliver get bummed in there?

If you don't know what Fib Sunday is, hen, or indeed, what's going on, click here for the original instructions. If Fibs don't interest you, check out this nice painting.

In brief:

1) I take the topic as given in last week's final entry, write a Fib and give a new topic.
2) Your reply to the topic is in the form of a Fib in the comment section.
3) You then supply the next topic.
4) The next visitor replies with a Fib on the newly given topic and then provides a new topic and so on...

A Fib is a six line, twenty syllable poem with a syllable count by line of 1/1/2/3/5/8. The only restriction on a Fib is that the syllable count follow the Fibonacci sequence. An example of a classic fib:

One
Small,
Precise,
Poetic,
Spiraling mixture:
Math plus poetry yields the Fib.

Last week, Ian Thorpe left us with the topic of the sound of a clock. My perfectly timed response:

Tick
tock
tick tock
tick tock tick
tock tick tock tick tock
Time goes by so slowly, my love.

Next topic:

It's over.