Lion Head Mesa what a grand and intoxicating innocence

akhtar were selling him a rotten apple painted red, an' gucci wasn't buyin'.

he smiled all customerly either way, nodding like he comprehended the confounding pantheon akashingo and its lik ascribed world-moving holiness to.

now, when the pointed speech turned itself gucci's way, the neb stiffened a lil'. wouldn't let that smile waver, though. he hoped it was as unpleasant an expression to see as it was to make.

"gawds... work in mysteriousmost ways." his tail swayed like wind-played fabric. "who's tah say why ah ain't runnin' no summer palace fer our fair queen? who's tah say why's it the baby queen's enthroned, 'stead the toddler one? don't ever try tah calculate th' chain o' causation which led fram two royals naw mummified -" gucci patted the warm stone where they both once raisinated. "over runaway princelin' tah today, wardrums in mah ears makin' me rise for once tah see th' mornin' prayer."

by now, gucci's grin was wide.

"ahm slave tah will o' th' mah'th 's y' are, sweet hem."