We Ask The Gods For Answers And

Like Looking Down On A Lubricious Chess Set, Isn't It? The King Moves In Tiny Steps, With No Direction, Like A Drunkard Trying To Avoid The Archer's Bolt. The Others Work Their Strategies And Wait For The Old Man To Fall. He Has No Power, Yet All Power Moves In His Orbit And To His Mad Whim. Do You Know There's No Fool Piece On The Chessboard, Kent?" "methinks The Fool Is The Player, The Mind Above The Moves.

Foul And Magical Fumes Bubbled Out Of The Kettle, Like The Flatulence Of A Dragon On A Demon-only Diet.

In Fact, He Sorely Hoped That It Would Happen, Because Otherwise, The World Made No Sense, There Was No Justice, And Life Was Just A Tangled Ball Of Chaos.

Charlie Had Sophie Strapped To His Chest Like A Terrorist Baby Bomb When He Came Down The Back Steps. She Had Just Gotten To The Point Where She Could Hold Up Her Head, So He Had Strapped Her In Face-out So She Could Look Around. The Way Her Arms And Legs Waved Around As Charlie Walked, She Looked As If She Was Skydiving And Using A Skinny Nerd As A Parachute.

Compliment But Do Not Covet.