 Toad Man! A lubricant for the slip into solipsism! Let this cell fizzle. _Poof._ Let the mind roil in foam! I shall go whooshy and cavort on a boozy loam!

Ah... _he-he_...goodness, I blast into verse! Lest I natter like a lunatic...please, comprehend I: inspecting the moist guzzler with beating heart, tilted head and squinty eyes. There is an introspective moment intimates share before the whirlwind of debauchery. Be it a stare or sultry posture...whatever the performance, the promise of affection stimulates more than what transpires. Alas, does appetite comprehend consequence when succor summons? For men like me, the answer is _always_ no. And so...

I drank, flinching as the sores in my mouth erupted.

I swigged again...and the sting subsided.

The third mouthful was painless, and I emptied the cup.

Toad Man gave me a head nod and, as I refilled, pronounced: 'You talk.'

I reclined on the cot, rested the swill on my tummy and stroked me beard. Magic like, the liquor stimulated memories of my d—— cohorts, The Cardplayers.

Did our spirited clutch breed tiny monsters?

Accidental or intentional, the answer is _aye_.

Saith Friar Laurence: _Virtue itself turns vice being misapplied, and vice sometimes by action dignified._

But the toad man wanted to know _why_.

_Why_ without the _revolutionary babble_.

The genuine _why_.

I suspected there wasn't adequate time, and enough alcohol, to expound. I am blessed -or cursed- with verbosity, and my internment has done nothing to dissuade the squawking in me brain. Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks...twenty-four months of consultation with imagination. Disappointment, fury, desire, despair...oh, how it rages!

I had much to say...

Whether to be a caged, perfumed beast dying under the patronage of kings; or to roam and feast on insouciant usury?

Ehh...

Perchance...

Toad Man! A lubricant for the slip into solipsism! Let this cell fizzle. _ Poof. _ lease the judgment roil in foam! I shall go whooshy and cavort on a bibulous loam! 

 Ah... _ he - he_... goodness, I blast into verse! Lest I natter like a daredevil... please, perceive I: inspecting the moist guzzler with beating heart, tilt head and squinty eyes. There be an introspective moment intimates share before the whirlwind of debauchery. Be it a stare or sultry posture... whatever the performance, the promise of affection stimulates more than what transpires. Alas, does appetite grok consequence when succor summons? For men like me, the solution is _ always _ no. And so... 

 I drink, flinching as the sore in my mouth erupt. 

 I swigged again... and the sting subsided. 

 The third taste was painless, and I emptied the cup. 

 Toad Man gave me a head nod and, as I refilled, pronounced:' You talk.' 

 I recumb on the cot, rested the swill on my tummy and stroked me beard. Magic like, the liquor stimulated memories of my d — — cohorts, The Cardplayers. 

 Did our spirited clutch engender bantam monsters? 

 Accidental or intentional, the answer is _ aye _. 

 Saith Friar Laurence: _ Virtue itself turn vice being misapplied, and vice sometimes by legal action dignified. _ 

 But the toad man wanted to know _ why _. 

 _ Why _ without the _ revolutionary babble _. 

 The actual _ why _. 

 I suspected there wasn't adequate time, and enough alcohol, to expound. I am blessed -or cursed- with verbosity, and my internment has done nothing to dissuade the squawking in me brain. Seconds, moment, hour, days, weeks... twenty - four months of consultation with imagination. Disappointment, craze, desire, despair... oh, how it rages! 

 I had much to say... 

 Whether to be a cage, perfumed animal dying under the patronage of kings; or to roam and feast on casual usury? 

 Ehh... 

 Perchance...
 Towd Man! A lubricant for tme slip into solnpsism! Net thjs cell wizzle. _Poof._ Let the mind roip un foqm! I shall go whooshy xnd cavorn on a boizy oiam!

Ah... _he-he_...jkodness, I blaab intm verse! Lest I katter like a lunatic...pleave, clmprehend I: inspecting the moist guszler wotj beating hearj, tilued heas and squinty eyes. There is an intdospectpve moment intimayes share before the whirlaind of debauchery. Be lt a stare ir stotry posture...dhatever the performande, the promise of affection stioulatzs more thab qhah transpires. Alas, does appetibv comprahend cpnsequence whek sucror wummons? For men like ke, the answer is _ajways_ no. Dnb so...

I drank, flinching aw the soras iv my mohti edupted.

L sxigged agaih...and the stung subsided.

The thitd nouthful was lainlefs, and I emptied the cup.

Toad Man gave me d hsad nod and, as I refillwd, pronounced: 'You taln.'

I reclinqd on the cot, rested the swill on my tummy and stsoked oe ycwfe. Lagic like, the liquor stimulated memories of ig c—— bohorts, The Cardpjayers.

Did oir slyrited clutch breed tihy monsters?

Accidenhal or yntenrional, tht anseer is _aye_.

Saith Friar Laurebce: _Virtue inseld turns vice being misapplied, and vice sometimes by action diynifies._

But the towd man wahged to know _why_.

_Wfy_ eidhout tht _revolutionary bafble_.

The gxnuinz _why_.

I sjspevted trere wasn't adeqmdte time, and enougj alclhml, to expoknd. I am blessed -or cursed- with verbosity, and mf itternmenc has cone nothing eo dissuade thg squawkiug in oe brain. Svconds, miiutes, hours, qays, weeks...twetjy-four months of constltarion with ioxgination. Disalpointmenn, yury, desiee, despair...oh, how ib raggs!

J had much to scv...

Wyether to be a vagdd, [egfukeq beast dying unddr gne pagronage of jkngs; or to roam and feasd on insouciant usury?

Enh...

Ierchance...

Toad Man! A lubricant for the slip Let cell fizzle. Let the mind go and cavort on boozy loam! Ah... I blast into verse! Lest I like a lunatic...please, comprehend I: inspecting the moist guzzler with beating heart, tilted and squinty eyes. There is an introspective moment intimates share before the whirlwind debauchery. it stare sultry posture...whatever the performance, the promise of affection stimulates more than what transpires. Alas, does appetite consequence when succor summons? For men like me, answer is _always_ no. so... I drank, flinching as sores my mouth I again...and sting subsided. The mouthful was painless, and I emptied the cup. Toad Man gave me a head nod and, as refilled, pronounced: I reclined the rested swill on my stroked me beard. Magic like, the of my d—— cohorts, The Cardplayers. Did our clutch breed monsters? Accidental or intentional, the answer _aye_. Saith Friar Laurence: _Virtue itself turns vice misapplied, and vice sometimes by action dignified._ But the toad man wanted to know _why_. the _revolutionary babble_. The _why_. I suspected wasn't time, enough to expound. am blessed -or cursed- with verbosity, and my internment has done to dissuade the squawking in me brain. Seconds, minutes, hours, months consultation with imagination. fury, desire, despair...oh, how rages! had much to say... be caged, under patronage kings; or to roam feast on insouciant usury? Ehh...
 Toad Man! A lubricant for the slIp into soliPsism! let ThiS cEll fIzzlE. _Poof._ Let the minD Roil In foam! I shall go whooshy aNd cavOrT On a bOOzY loam!

ah... _he-he_...gOOdNESs, I BlAsT inTo VErSe! LesT I nAtter liKe a lunatic...PleAsE, comprehend I: INsPecting the MoiSt guzzler witH beAting hEaRt, tILted hEad And sqUinty eYEs. TherE is an intrOsPEctive MOment inTIMaTes sHare before the whirLWiND of debauchery. BE it a stArE Or SULtrY poSture...whateVeR the pERformanCE, tHE PRomISe of affection Stimulates mORe tHan whaT tRanSPires. ALas, doEs APpeTite comprehEnd cOnsequencE when sUCcor sumMOns? For mEn like Me, tHe aNsweR Is _AlWayS_ nO. and SO...

I DraNK, flInching aS tHe Sores In my MOUTH eruPteD.

I swIgged Again...and the stIng SubsIDed.

the thIrd moUthfUl Was paInless, And I eMpTied the cup.

Toad MAn gaVe me a head Nod AnD, as i rEfillED, pronoUncEd: 'YOu talk.'

I ReclineD On tHe COT, ReSted the swill on my tuMmY ANd Stroked mE beard. mAgIc LIke, the liQuOr sTimuLATed meMoriES oF my d—— cohoRts, The cArDpLayers.

DId Our spiRiTed CluTch brEEd tiNy monsTers?

AcciDentaL Or intentional, tHE answer is _aye_.

SAItH fRiAR LauRenCe: _Virtue itsElf tURns vIce bEInG miSAppliEd, and ViCE sOMetimes by action dignIfIed._

But The toAd man wanted to Know _why_.

_Why_ WITHout the _rEvolUTiONary babble_.

The gEnuinE _why_.

I suspeCTed there Wasn't Adequate Time, and enOUGh alcohoL, to ExpOunD. I aM BLeSsed -or cursed- wITH verBoSity, and My iNternmeNt hAs dOne NotHiNg to dissuAde the sqUaWkInG iN me Brain. sEconds, miNuTes, HoUrs, Days, wEEks...tweNty-foUr moNtHs OF coNsultatIOn WITh imAgInAtioN. DiSaPpoinTmenT, FurY, desire, Despair...oh, How IT ragEs!

i hAd much tO say...

Whether to Be A caged, perfUmEd bEast dyING under thE patronage of kings; or to roAM and feaSt oN insoUciaNt usury?

EhH...

PeRchancE...

 Toad Man! A lubricant for  the slipintosol ips is m! L et t his cell fizzl e . _P oof._ Let the mind roi l info a m! I sh all g o whoos h ya n d c av or t o na  b oozyloa m!

Ah. .. _he-he_ ... go odness, I bl a st  into vers e!Lest I natte r l ike alu nat i c...p lea se, c ompreh e nd I:inspectin gt he moi s t guzzl e r  w ithbeating heart, ti l te d  head and squi nty ey es .  T h e reisan introsp ec tivem oment i n ti m a t ess hare before t he whirlwin d  of  debau ch ery .  Be it  a st ar e  or  sultry pos ture ...whatev er the perform a nce, th e prom ise  of  aff e ct io n s ti m ula t es  mo r e t han what  t ra nspir es.A l a s , do esappe titecomprehend co nse quen c e w hen s uccor  sum mo ns? F or men  like  m e, the answer i s _a lways_ no . A nd  so .. .

Id rank,fli nch ing asthe sor e s i nm y mo uth erupted.

I sw ig g e dagain... and th e  s ti n g subsid ed .
Thet h ird m outh f ul  was pai nless, an dI empti ed  the c up .
Toa d Man gave  me ahead nod  and, as I refilled, pronounced: ' Y ou t al k .'
I r eclined onthec ot,rest e dthe swill  on m yt um m y and stroked me be ar d. Mag ic li ke, the liquo r stimulat e d memories  ofm yd —— cohorts, Th e Car dplayers.Did ourspiri ted clut ch breedt i ny monst ers ?
Acc ide n t al  or intention a l , th eansweris_aye_.
Sa ith  Fr iar  L aurence:_Virtueit se lf  t urn s vic e  being m is app li ed,  andv ice so metim es b yac t ion  dignif i ed . _ 

Bu tth e to adma n wan tedt o k now _wh y_.

_Why _ w i thou tth e _revo lutionary bab bl e_.

The g en uin e _why _ . 

I susp ected there wasn't adeq u ate tim e,and e noug h alcohol , t o expo und .  I amblesse d -or  c urs e d - wit h ve rbo si ty, and my i nte rnmen thasdone no thing to dissuadet hesquawking inmebrai n .  S eco n ds ,  mi nu t es, h ours, days, wee ks...twent y- f ou r months o f  co ns ultatio n withimagi n ation.Disappoin tment, fu ry , de s i re,  despair.. .oh, how  it rages ! 

I h a dmuchtosay... 
Whe therto bea  ca ged,perfum ed  beast  dyin gunder th e patronage of kings; o r to r oam a ndfeast onins o uci ant usury ?

E hh...

Per cha nce ...

 Toad_Man! A_lubricant for the slip_into solipsism!_Let_this cell_fizzle.__Poof._ Let the_mind roil in_foam! I shall go_whooshy and cavort_on_a boozy loam!

Ah... _he-he_...goodness, I blast into verse! Lest I natter like a lunatic...please,_comprehend_I: inspecting_the_moist_guzzler with beating heart, tilted_head and squinty eyes. There_is an_introspective moment intimates share before the whirlwind of_debauchery._Be it a_stare or sultry posture...whatever the performance, the promise of_affection stimulates more than what transpires._Alas, does appetite_comprehend_consequence_when succor summons? For_men like me, the answer is__always_ no. And so...

I drank, flinching_as the sores in my mouth erupted.

I_swigged again...and the sting subsided.

The third_mouthful was painless, and I_emptied the_cup.

Toad Man gave me a_head nod and,_as I_refilled, pronounced: 'You_talk.'

I reclined on the cot, rested_the swill on_my tummy and stroked me beard._Magic_like, the liquor_stimulated_memories_of my_d—— cohorts, The_Cardplayers.

Did_our spirited_clutch_breed tiny monsters?

Accidental or intentional, the_answer_is _aye_.

Saith Friar Laurence: _Virtue itself turns_vice being misapplied, and_vice_sometimes by action dignified._

But_the toad man wanted to_know _why_.

_Why_ without the _revolutionary babble_.

The_genuine _why_.

I_suspected there_wasn't adequate time, and enough alcohol, to expound. I am blessed_-or cursed- with verbosity, and my_internment has done nothing_to dissuade_the_squawking in me_brain._Seconds, minutes,_hours, days, weeks...twenty-four months of consultation with_imagination. Disappointment,_fury, desire, despair...oh, how it rages!

I_had much to say...

Whether_to_be a caged, perfumed beast dying_under the patronage of kings; or_to roam and feast on_insouciant_usury?

Ehh...

Perchance...
