| Chapitre | yea/nay |
| 1. Power In The Valley pp. 1-3 | nay |
| 2. The Most Threats Ever There Were pp. 3-6 | nay |
| 3. Demolishin pp. 6-7 | nay |
| 4. Ruminasiens Of The Fading pp. 8-9 | YEA |
| 5. Invigoratien pp. 9-11 | nay |
| Indectic p. 12 | nay |
8 
Neither would Fool to have those arrows snipt, leaving nubs, lest he lie fixt in hist’ry as the Barby Porkopine of Stalacton. Fool the Fowl, saith he, Playeth at least some euphonie upon the palate of the ear.
But Prantannigrew Dubius the anatomicol gnostic scoft aloud, saying, Palate of the ear? Palate of the ear! The ear hath no damns palate. None a-tall. And he cited his penchant for mapping cadavers.
P. Dubius were wrong. Fool’s ear hath a palate, he having been born to brother and sister the children of brother and sister; and nature was confounded in his line, and hath palated his ear.
Saith Fool, At least I am dying, and shall not long be presst to bear these heinous barbs. So brutal too the doldrums, and the japes & frolicks of my grotesqe citisens, but moreso these millien chewing shafts wedge-ed in the flesh. Yet the worst of’t all is this: to die heirbarren as I do, witouten no successer to fill the shoes of the Giantsie I have put together. And he looken upon the giant’s shoes in the corner, those he hath causd to be made by podiatrists, shoes the size of amontillado casks, monstor clogs of teak and shittim, forever to stand empty. [Tho, they would neither stand forever empty, but how could he know? For when he died, it played for ceremony that he was stufft into one and launcht by catapult; and the other was given oars and made a moat coaster, which filld with crocodills and sink-ed directly two moonstruck lovers took her out.] On the dual left-footedness of the shooz—left and left—he faulted not their makers. The slip was his own, in neglect of weighing all optiens. Nor any less wearable for it was the pair.
Sure, whispereth Fool, I oughts to have married. And he pictureth his sister Noxia. Noxia, now but a wafer in a dusty bin of many, owing to one awful episode of sibling disconsonance. Label it compressien, compaxian, reduxion suddens: her pulping & wafering out in the Resolution Room, one sweltring eve when the grog was flowing and its fetid fumes did curl up outen Fool’s gullet to foul the air and kink his brain unto condemnasien of his sister’s Rhapsody for the Love of a Dove, which she playn over and over on her dulcimor, over and over and over, there in that hall of boss acoustics. They then had fought; and she had clawd his eye, and broken her dulsimar upon him, and bitten a crater outen his shoulder, and callt him stuntling, and homunculus; and she had commenst morphing into an werowulf. Almo blind with terror and tears, the monarch had reacht the dondle just in time.
With her crushing had been crusht the future. There alway had been an air between them,
9
subtly stirring, implicative of Destiny. But say, ’twere no Destiny after all, but only that prankster Irony in maskerade. Now true fate hath deckt Fool out in blood and feathers on a foreign field, e’en as fate for Sister Nox was alway perching there unseen upon that pulping pillar, and in due course triggerd by her dander.
And his people came and despised him, saying, Thou art the only Stalactite King, ever that hath lost us any battle, and an entire army afield. He and they well knew ’twas a lie; but he were loath to cite on his behalf that roster of deposed pariahs, clown principals of battles lost and armies forfeit, defeated kings and defunct genrals of war gone sour, who of sudden were become his ilk. Wherefore invoke unto his name such toxic associasiens? The world needen more of goodwill & compassien toward the flesh-wounded, right now, and less of associative toxicities. And he sent out bards singing of love and forgiveness; and by and by were the most of them found impale-ed on their lutes.
And he puncht through his agony an address unto the peopel, saying, The enemy rascols, they use-ed sin, to win; for they came upon us with superlative strategy. O! the world doth so change, whimsicly ’bandoning any who hath loved her enogh to study out her moves and ways. She goeth into a change, and for a season taketh in studious new lovers to tease and to betray. One such lover was I of the world I thoght I knew. Ahhhh, said I. Day doth follow night doth follow day, in this world. X maneuver yieldeth Y result. Wite ye what I say? Attack with dogs, and ye gon inaugurate a battlefield symphony of ripping throats. Run troopers up a tree, and every enemy eye will lock o’erhead in dread, oblivius to your more sanguineous frontal slaught. Yea, I knew my world, knew her bounds and pivots. I knew her tach & dwell, and when and where to slap some grease. Keep her lubed and purring, ye all have heard me say’t, ye all have watcht me work.
So ’twere, until Catastros, and there I found the world all change-ed! ’Tis no more the way of nations to field an honest army, to totter righteous in my sights and go down smitten. Nay; but to resist with wicked tricks, this is what I found out there. All the oldtime honour among men, that made my living easy against them: ’tis depleted from this world, and sin and strategy reign amok. Verily I say, an objectienabol age is dawn-ed, and that of the noble giants hath passt; and I am squeezd out, and do not fit, and I am pluggd full of bristles.
And they spat down upon him, as he pine-ed. This we do, said they, Part in respect, and part not.
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