Portrait Of Titania
While Lord Dacchus was touring the Underworld he sent a telegram to his wife the Queen requesting a list of supplies. An attendant read the items aloud to Her Majesty Titania.
Wait, Titania said. What was that last one again?
The portrait of my wife that hangs in the hallway, the attendant replied.
Rounded, rotund Titania reclined upon a pile of watercress pillows beside a forest pool and wiped the crumbs of cinnamon from the summit of her pregnant belly and took another lusty bite of her sticky bun.
What’s he want that for? she asked.
Says here, sentimental reasons, m’lady.
Titania snorted. Can’t someone just take a picture of it and send it t’m? Why does he need the actual painting? He’s just going to mess it all up down there.
Titania was very fond of her portrait. It was painted when she was only a few thousand years old, shortly after the first Miracle, and it was the only object that survived the Temple fire.
As a child Titania was virtuous and chaste, yet her father always accused her of pooping behind the couch. In a bid to assure him her innocence, Titania assented to an Ordeal By Fire. Barefoot and wearing a gown covered in wax, the flames refused to embrace her. Titania emerged from the trial unscathed and innocent, yet her abusive father continued to imagine that it was she who had been poopin’ behind the couch.
Disheartened by her father’s paucity, Titania left home and wandered into the forest. She soon came to a clearing where a mother bear was grieving over her dead cub. An Angel appeared, bowed, and said that Titania was the Faerie Queen. The Angel placed the lifeless cub in Titania’s arms and it returned to life. From then on the mother and her cub were devoted to Her Majesty Titania and they built a temple to her on the spot.
The painting Dacchus requested was painted by the baby bear and once hung over the altar in that Temple.
Titania opened her Grizzly scrimshaw locket, breathed on the mirror, then shut the clasp tight, fixing her smile upon it forever.
Go get some poop from behind the couch, she said to her attendant. Frame it and send him that instead. And here, Titania said handing the attendant the locket. Put this in there.
Portrait Of Dacchus
As the path narrowed and the dense forest grew denser to the point where it was virtually impenetrable, Dacchus paused to untangle his dress from a thorny branch.
Argh! Grandma’s underpants! he cursed. Worried someone might have heard him, he added under his breath, Pardon my French.
Then he wondered if he was wearing a pair of grandma’s underpants? It was very possible. Janice had disguised Dacchus as an old, dead lady. Specifically as a member of notorious Maidens Of Moth, a coven of hillbilly wiener witches that look deader than Death itself. She really decked him out and gussied him up in the finest old lady apparel assuring him, despite his protests, that this is how witchy women dress, like a cat in the dark, like a woman taken by the wind: flowing funeral skirts, ghoulish gowns, mourning dresses, black lace shawls, thunder stockings, amethyst elbow gloves, fishnet pantyhose (made from authentic mermaid nets with ensnared sailor parts), cobra wigs, mom jeans, embalming sweaters, Apache tear stains, raven veils, lil exorcist capes, suicide vests, locust wings, dark crystals, vampire bikinis, coffin nail earrings, moonstone necklaces, werewolf beards, platinum catheters, tomb sandals, born again cardigans, poltergeist panties, forbidden hats (affixed with lightning rods), age-inappropriate lingerie (but no bras), electric boots, and a mohair suit.
Very impressive, Dacchus said when Janice showed him a mirror. But do I look dead?
Oh yes, very dead, Janice said.
Janice had helped him swap the head for the tail, as she described it, so that he was technically dead and thus on the path to the entrance to the Underworld which was somewhere between his own buttocks. He wasn’t sure how he got there, but there he was in the crack of his own ass having a fine time struggling with a seemingly impenetrable forest looking for the Tunnel Of Love, the entrance to the Underworld.
Milk Blood Of Alnilam’s Scarlet Daughters
If you stand in the same spot on earth at midnight on April 13 every year and diagram the path of Alnilam, the center star in Orion’s belt, you will see that it will, over the course of centuries, transcribe the path of a 7-circuit labyrinth. A sacred breed of Moths, known as the Alnilam’s Scarlet Daughters, are believed to have been born within that distant star in the Orion constellation because they also trace the pattern of a 7-circuit labyrinth in their flight path around a flame, but the labyrinth that each Moth draws in the sky is as unique as a fingerprint.
The Maidens Of Moth, ancient descendants of The Old Ones and guardians of The Secret, have been harvesting Milk Blood from Alnilam’s Scarlet Daughters for centuries by milking the Holy Moths in a mysterious ritual and then distilling the alien Milk Blood until only the essence of their labyrinth remains. The potent labyrinth essence is then employed by the Maidens Of Moth in their world famous sorcery.
Have you ever wished to entangle someone in your heart? Do you have a monster-in-law that you need to imprison? Would you like to protect your entombed God’s resting place from graverobbers? Do you desire to destroy a dray of Devil Rats?
Then you need The Maidens Of Moth’s Magical Mazes™. For the first time in history, the secrets of the Maidens Of Moth are now available to the public for a limited time only. Each custom MoMMM™ kit comes with a Magical Labyrinth Spell powered by Milk Blood from Alnilam’s Scarlet Daughters that will baffle, befuddle, and bewilder your subject allowing you to ensnare, entrap, and exile him, her, or it to wherever you like: In a castle tower! At the bottom of the ocean! In the depths of Hell! To last Tuesday! Within their own mind! The possibilities are endless! Because each Magical Labyrinth Spell is custom designed to your specifications, you can banish anyone or anything to anywhere or anywhen!
Harness the power of Alnilam’s Scarlet Daughters today with a custom Maidens Of Moth’s Magical Mazes™ kit. And, if you call within the next 22 minutes, you’ll receive a commemorative Maidens Of Moth Milk Pail, but you must ORDER NOW!
Half A Hole
This is a portrait of Dacchus visiting the Underworld disguised as a hillbilly wiener witch.
It should be noted that Dacchus was an international world champion hole digger. He set all kinds of records in his day. He dug to China, for instance, with both arms tied behind his back. His greatest achievement, however, was the invention of half-a-hole.
Before Dacchus, wieners never announced they were going to dig a hole. This was partly due to the fact that they tend to live in the Now and have difficulty comprehending the concept of a Future, not to mention that they find it rather silly to announce that they may or may not complete this or that task and the result is “coming soon.” Dacchus, on the other hand, saw a great benefit in talking about projects he was thinking about doing and it was in the midst of this practice that he made his discovery.
While digging one of his world famous holes, Dacchus paused to rest and used the opportunity to announce to the spectators that he had not only embarked on a project, but that this particular project was approximately halfway to completion. He had, in fact, dug half-a-hole.
At this point in history, no one had ever seen half-a-hole before. A hole is a hole is a hole. Yet Dacchus, to everyone’s surprise, had produced before their eyes half-a-hole. There was such a hulla balloo made over Dacchus’ half-a-hole that people started going crazy for any fraction of a hole that wasn’t a whole hole. One week they loved half-a-hole, the next week a quarter-of-a-hole, the next summer minimal 1/16th-of-a-hole holes were all the rage. Right now, for instance, contemporary A-Holers (as they’re known) are experimenting with mind-boggling negative holes like -3.14-of-a-hole. That’s a whole lot of nothing.
Dacchus made a fortune digging fractions-of-a-hole holes and never dug a whole hole again for the rest of his whole life. He is buried in the Graveyard Of The Gods. And while Dacchus’ grave is twice as long as the usual grave, it’s half as deep.
Click Here To Track Your Prayer
PRAYER TRACKING NUMBER: 432666
1/14/16 11:22 A.M. ARRIVAL SCAN at United Prayer Service (UPS) facility. Prayer is received by Count Broccula and The Omnigüs.
1/14/16 11:23 A.M. Prayer is processed and peed on by the magnificent Wiener Angel, The Prince Of Dachness.
1/14/16 11:42 A.M. DEPARTURE SCAN.
1/15/16 12:34 A.M. ARRIVAL SCAN at Monkey Waterskiing Training Facility. Monkeys throw feces at each other while waterskiing. Delivery will be delayed by two (2) Monkey Business Days.
1/18/16 3:14 P.M. DEPARTURE SCAN. Prayer answered and in transit by rail: loaded onto a toy train modeled after the Trans Siberian Railroad and operated by a curious hermaphrodite named Chauncey who is rumored to be the Roman poet Virgil’s illegitimate child.
1/18/16 4:20 P.M. BLESSED. At the same time that the Angel Of Dachness’ flying dragon kisses the Dream Witch’s Mermaid Ring, Virgil’s Hermaphrodite guides the toy train, laden with Wishes, through the introitus formed by the Dream Witch’s supple wrists. The prayer leaves the Heavens, answered and blessed, and enters Reality.
1/19/16 12:00 A.M. DELIVERED. Prayer signed for by the ghost of Edgar Allan Poe just after he blows out the candles on his phantom birthday cake.
Marionette Mayhem
The premiere puppet fighting entertainment corporation, Marionette Mayhem, confirmed today the rumor that has been circulating for weeks: the two greatest puppeteers in history, the ancient Greek sculptor, Pygmalion, and the German alchemist, Dr. Frankenstein, have agreed to a battle-puppet fight-to-the-death: Pygmalion’s, The Ivory Tower, will face off against Frankenstein’s undefeated world champion, The Fabulous Fracas.
Tale Of The Tape: The Ivory Tower
Height: 17’1” (one inch taller than Michelangelo’s “David”) Weight: 432 lbs
Shortly after Pygmalion divorced his first wife, Galatea, and came out as a gay sculptor, he created the impressive and imposing puppet warrior, The Ivory Tower (TIT)—like Galatea before him, the massive statue-come-to-life is constructed entirely of ivory. Scouting reports from TIT’s open workout say he’s been grappling with Pygmalion’s wiener, choking it out, and putting it in various submission holds.
Tale Of The Tape: The Fabulous Fracas
Height: 16’ (twice the size of Frankenstein’s original monster)
Weight: 666 lbs
The defending MM World Champion is a monster bioengineered by Dr. Frankenstein with the help of his Magical ShEars: a pair of scissors that are powered by music and which dismembered a pile of corpses and amalgamated the various body parts into a massive creature endowed with a symphony of superhuman strengths. He’s been installed with a fictional history that fuels his insatiable rage. The Fracas believes that by day he’s an ancient Egyptian priest that cares for a group of orphans in a giant pyramid below the ice fields of Antarctica, but by night he is The Fabulous Fracas, a gladiator that destroys opponents for prize money that funds the orphanage.
Marionette Mayhem’s fight of the century, PvF, takes place on Leap Year Day in the MM Hiptagon, the coolest seven-sided ring in the world. The Hiptagon door will open for two puppets, but only one will emerge alive…
The Daily Racing Form
Track conditions at Mrs. Jumbo’s Mother Earth Raceway have been downgraded to “muddy” due to the birth of her Divine Twins, Dacchus and Doxulus, and the resulting Flood from the Afterbirth. Here are the odds and analysis of the contenders for their hearts as they settle into the Royal Box to suck on some Trunk Milk before enjoying the first race in history (clockwise from top right):
1. Child’s Play. 88/1.
This lil monster has been rockin’ and rollin’ like Johnnie B. Good of late thanks to trainer Chuck Berry. She’s 3-1 in her last four starts and at 88/1 on the morning line. This Chuckie bet is low hanging fruit.
2. Double Bull. 11/1.
Hailing from London Fields Stables under the guidance of the talentless Keith Talent, this old dartboard has been flying straight as an arrow in his last few starts. Step up to the oche and drop some McQuiggin’s Gold on this Treble 20.
3. Flying Burrito Brother #1. 666-1.
“Cuando yo sea grande, voy a ser Pancho Villa.” Note: all bets must be made blindfolded. Comes with a souvenir baseball bat and a side of rice and beans.
4. Salaud Canard. 99/1.
Wearing the Allah Orange silks, The Arabian Firequacker From Across The Pond is always a favorite on the bill.
5. Brand New Key. oo/oo.
Never a bad idea to bet on a brand new pair of roller skates that can skate backwards during “couples only.” They don’t go too fast, but they go pretty far. Owner: Melanie (Some people say she done all right for a girl).
6. Whale Ball Wine. 69/1.
This homophone [wail, bawl, whine] was sired by Yadda Yadda Yadda who is a descendant of Yammer Yabber Yak. His damn dam was Blah Blah Blah who came from Jibber Jabber Stables, which is also where Babble On was recorded. Shutup.
7. Nostradamus. 23/1.
Everybody knows that the nose always knows you can’t win by a nose without a nose that knows that a knows is a knows is a knows. Trainer: Snotty McMucus. Stable: The Booger Barn.
8. The Roaring 20s. 2/1.
This flapper remains the favorite despite racing in drinking skirts that are bobbed too short, smoking makeup while applying cigarettes, and listening to love like she’s making jazz.
Post time: stroke of midnight.
The Snail & Bale Show
Dr. Schneckle was a German gastropod who lived in the discokugel that he carried on his back, while his best friend, Hay Baby, was a bale of hay with a braided ponytail. Together they wrote and produced an offshore pirate radio show in the late-40s called “The Snail & Bale Show.” Hay Baby’s ponytail was, in fact, the antenna by which they transmitted their offshore broadcasts. (Technically the duo weren’t onshore, yet they weren’t exactly offshore either because their studio was situated in the middle of a salt marsh in Newbury, Massachusetts.)
Their peculiar radio show was almost entirely devoted to the philosophical investigation of color. The subject of color was extremely popular with the Newbury audience because the sun rarely emerged from behind the clouds above the silent and grey fishing village; movies and television were still a rare privilege at the time; and while the Newbury Library had an impressive collection of literature available, very few of the books contained pictures. Thus, listening to a snail with a German accent and a bale of hay with a braided ponytail describing different colors on the radio was very exciting to the citizens of Newbury.
Like Goethe and Wittgenstein, Dr. Schneckle and Hay Baby were perplexed and fascinated by the concept of color. They were, for instance, consumed by the problem of how to define colors without relying on ostensive definitions.
Say I want to paint one of the rooms inside of my shell the same color the sky is at this instant, Dr. Schneckle once asked, how would you transmit this color to the clerk at the paint store? How do you explain the color to him?
Well, Herr Dachtor, I would first commit the greyish green color of the sky to memory, Hay Baby replied. Then I would go to the paint store with my mental sky sample before my mind’s eye and explain to the clerk that I wanted something that was sort of a greyish green. I would then compare his mixes against my mental sky sample and together we would make adjustments to the paint’s tint, lightness, darkness, etc. until we achieved a match.
How successful would you expect that method to be? Dr. Schneckle asked. Because I would imagine the can of paint you return with would be inaccurate simply due to the notoriously unreliable nature of our memories. But even before you travel to the paint store, I already call into question the mental sky sample you left off with: there is no green in this sky! It is a bluish grey! Your entire enterprise is booty from the get-go!
Oh, but Herr Dachtor, I beg to differ, replied Hay Baby, beginning yet another debate about the color of the sky, much to the delight of their listeners.
Numerous experiments were conducted in this regard and they would often invite a clerk from the paint store—a young fellow named Douglas—to participate as a call-in guest on the show. Doug was dumb as a box of rocks, and his gaffs were always hilarious, but he seemed to relish his role on the show as a paint expert and so no one begrudged his shortcomings.
With Douglas’ help, Snail & Bail managed to create a very primitive mathematical language to describe colors that predated the Pantone system, but they were never able to achieve their goal of creating a universal language of color.
Other notable moments and achievements on The Snail & Bale Show included:
1. They claimed to have invented a new primary color called Jasp. Jasp was a very popular request (listeners could call in and request colors to be talked about) even though no one had seen it because, according to Snail & Bail, Jasp is, for now, only visible to scorpions, crabs, and some spiders. Humans will be able to see it in the year 2222.
2. One of the most popular segments on the show was a contest called, What Color Is It? Hay Baby would drop an object on the floor in front of a microphone and callers would try and guess what color the object was.
3. They developed a magical technology that gave mirrors memory. The mirrors on Dr. Schneckle’s shell, for instance, could be persuaded to conjure up the image of anything that had been reflected on their surface from years in the past. Additionally, their mirrors could communicate and share reflections with other mirrors all over the world. It was sort of an early version of the internet.
One of Snail & Bale’s favorite pastimes was to use a mirror to spy on the morning toilette of a hysterical woman in the neighboring town of Innsmouth. The Archdachess, as they called her, would fuss with wigs, makeup, and countless trinkets before her mirror for hours while eating hot dogs and smoking cigarettes. Much like a pair of baseball game announcers, Snail & Bale would give play-by-play analysis of her peculiar rituals much to the delight of their Newbury listeners.
The Snail & Bale Show came to an abrupt and tragic end when the pair were struck by lightning on February 28, 1953. They were literally trying to capture lightning in a bottle (a Leyden jar) in the middle of the Newbury salt marsh because they believed that lightning bolts contained the elements that could produce The God Color, a color they calculated to be eternally black yet infinitely bright—the purest color in the Universe from which all other color was born. Some people think that if The God Color does exist, it’s preserved in the memory of the mirrors on the back of Dr. Schneckle’s burned up shell which is on display—hanging from the ceiling like a proper discokugel—in the entrance hall to the Newbury Historical Society Library.
The Military Portrait Of Dachtor Krieg
Military Portrait Of Dachtor Krieg, General Lord Marshall Admiral Of The Doxy Empire, Prince of Frankfart, Dach Of Wienerdorf, Bishop Of Worms.
Space Colors on cliff
3.61 km × 2.23 km
The theft of the enormous masterpiece, Military Portrait Of Dachtor Krieg, and how it has remained undiscovered all these years, is one of the greatest mysteries in the history of art. This digital recreation is based on ancient written descriptions and eyewitness accounts by the few who saw it before it was stolen. It was, by all accounts, a massive painting and considered a religious icon by the wild barbarian tribes of Germania, yet it was relatively unknown because it was painted on the side of a cliff nearly three kilometers above sea level on the east face of the Matterhorn Mountain. The unknown artist further obfuscated the image by painting it with pigments that were wrung from a meteorite thus using alien colors from the other side of the galaxy that no one had ever seen before. Unless your eyes and brain had been trained to see these space colors, you would never have known there was a massive portrait painted on the side of the Matterhorn.
The portrait of the Germanic warrior, Dachtor Krieg, was one of the finest examples of Classical Romantic Teutonic art—a style preoccupied with heroic themes and exalting the blood and soil of the Motherland. It was presumably painted to commemorate the final battle of The Great Devil Rat War in which Dachtor Krieg deployed a labyrinth spell (created by a coven of Hillbilly Wiener Witches who claim to be descendents of Alnilam’s Scarlet Daughters) that trapped the Devil Rat hordes in an Underworld maze from which they never escaped.
Krieg is portrayed at his homecoming. He is gravely injured, but victorious. He carries a glass barrel filled with the blood of a million slaughtered Devil Rats. Legend has it that when he turned the glass barrel over, and the blood began to spill, it did not stop spilling for 40 days and 40 nights and covered the entire country in a pool of blood three inches deep.
Krieg’s helmetless head is adorned with a golden fleece and bullhorns protrude from his temples indicating that he is an incarnation of the Ancient Egyptian God, Osiris, Lord Of The Underworld. He is welcomed home by Mother Earth, who appears here in the form of Penelobee Horney Bee, who lovingly embraces and caresses his snout with her long, formidable antlers.
In the background, the giant World Boy and his Mother, the virgin Faerie Queen, dance amid a parade of philosophers that have gathered to hold hands and debate the deconstruction and ontological metaphysics Pythagorean prolegomena tractatus—I have no idea what they’re doing.
As impressive as this enormous monument was, it’s perhaps more impressive that somebody, or somebodies, stole it. Remember: it was over three and half kilometers tall. How does one steal the side of a mountain? Unknown, but there can be no doubt that the Matterhorn’s east face—where the artist painted the portrait, allegedly using only a vacuum cleaner, a gold mirror, and a trebuchet—appears as if it were sheared off with a giant cheese knife. There are, as one would imagine, many legends and theories as to what happened to the giant painting.
One story tells of the thief hiding the art in his mother’s backyard. Her neighbors, however, began to complain because the giant mountainside was eclipsing the sun 22 hours a day. So she burned it in her oven to protect her son.
Another theory contends that the thieves chopped the mountainside artwork up into 42 smaller mountainsides, each of which was hidden safely in the womb of 42 different clouds residing in the bottom of 42 different lakes throughout the region that is now Switzerland. This theory is probably derived from and cognate with the Osiris myth referenced in the painting: Set murdered his brother Osiris then dismembered the body into 42 pieces that were then scattered across Egypt.
There’s even a theory promoted by cryptozoologists who have wildly speculated that the painting wasn’t stolen at all, but rather Harold, The Abominable Snowman (now immortalized on the ride at Disneyland), ate the giant painting after mistaking it for a birthday cake.
While there are those today who claim to be ancestors of the burglar(s) and say they know the location of the painting and/or various fragments—at least one Swiss lake was dredged in the 70s—no real evidence of the artwork’s existence has ever surfaced and the theft is still on Interpol’s Art Crimes List as “unrecovered.” There are, however, many who believe that there will be a Second Coming of the Military Portrait Of Dachtor Krieg.
Screaming Lord Frank Farter’s Lighthouse Tantrum
It is really quite ASTONISHING,” screamed Screaming Lord Frank Farter, “that Lil Baby Jubba Jingles is incapable of attending to even his easiest and most insignificant chores. It is truly REMARKABLE!
The pictures on the walls in The Great Pink Lighthouse sittingroom shook before Screaming Lord Frank Farter’s thunder—a name he earned because no matter what he is doing he is always screaming and farting while doing it. Or farting and screaming. Sometimes a scream precedes a fart, and sometimes a fart precedes a scream. Other times a scream will follow a scream and a fart will follow a fart. Although it is not at all uncommon for him to scream and fart at the same time. And, on occasion, he’ll scream a fart or fart a scream. In this instance, he screamed then farted. The massive fart also caused the tower to tremble, and a most horrible odor filled the chamber and blistered the wallpaper.
Due to Lord Frank’s tantrum, it had grown rather uncomfortable within the confines of the humble lighthouse in the middle of the ocean where they all lived, and so each family member retreated to his or her corner, as they did on these occasions—even though there are no corners in the tower—to weather Lord Frank’s profanity laden hissy fit.
The object of his outburst was, of course, Lil Baby Jubba Jingles. His offense? He had neglected to clean up the droppings in his White Rat’s cage. When they had first introduced the White Rat to Lil Baby Jubba Jingles and made the pathetic creature a little nest in a cage beneath Mother’s toilet, they had all jokingly referred to the tiny compound as The White Rat Temple. And for a time, the little White Rat was revered and fawned over like a God. But, as is often the case with children, Lil Baby Jubba Jingles soon grew bored of his little god and he became distracted by other projects until finally The White Rat’s Temple was completely neglected and fell into disrepair. Caring for the rat thenceforth had fallen to Screaming Lord Frank Farter, and Screaming Lord Frank Farter was not pleased.
Lil Baby Jubba Jingles awkwardly stroked his horn and pretended to be in conference with one of his demon servants. He was asking the beast to go down to the beach and fetch him a pelvic bone, or some such nonsense, when Screaming Lord Frank Farter screamed, BABY! HERE! NOW!
Screaming Lord Frank Farter’s anger demanded more reparation than usual and he deemed this offense worthy of a spanking AND a hot salsa enema. Lil Baby Jubba Jingles had been spanked on many occasions, and he’d received his share of hot salsa enemas, sure, but never at the same time. This was the most severe sentence to ever be meted out in the history of The Great Pink Lighthouse. That’s how displeased Lord Frank was about the deplorable condition of the White Rat’s Temple under Mother’s toilet.
Unfortunately for Lord Frank, however, Lil Baby Jubba Jingles had reached an age when a spanking was not very painful and nothing to be frightened of. So when Lord Frank laid him across his knees and applied palm to buttocks, Lil Baby Jubba Jingles showed little discomfort and, at worst, looked only slightly bemused. This was not at all the effect Lord Frank was after and it made him even more infuriated. He vowed that the hot salsa enema he administered would be extra hot.
It’s going to be extra hot, buster! he screamed. And then farted.
As luck would have it, he couldn’t find any hot salsa anywhere in the lighthouse. MOTHER! he screamed while farting, Where is the hot salsa? Mother didn’t know anything about any hot salsa. Why would they have hot salsa in the middle of the ocean? Still she offered to whip up a batch for him if he really needed it.
Screaming Lord Frank Farter was too impatient to await the construction of a salsa, so he swept the baby off his lap and went stomping up the stairs to break things and curse at the wind from the catwalk around the lantern room. They could hear him terrorizing the nautical knick-knacks, gewgaws, grimcracks, tchotchkes, trinkets, and other souvenirs that were on display throughout the tower. Crash! Bang! Boom! At its crescendo, Screaming Lord Frank Farter broke the lighthouse lantern with an unfortunate projectile. The lighthouse was plunged into darkness. All was silent save the waves crashing against the tower. It would be days before the beacon could be restored.
The flotsam always washed up first. Mother put the tea on in case there were any survivors. The White Rat licked his white rat lips and rubbed his little white rat paws together, for it would fall to him to harvest the bloated corpses.