affame_le_geant_back_to_now fyn gula needless to say, puppertwinkle was freaked out. having just leaped from the sugar girl's out of control scooter just before it drove her and tripod off the side of a cliff, he tried to gain some assemblance of order to his swirling chaos when the sugar girl's ghost appeared in the sky above him, threatening, and verbally abusive. shocked beyond all manner of comprehension, the little dog sat, frozen by fear, an unfortunate witness to her crumbling dissolution. like confetti thrown by the roman spectators as they beheld another christian mauled in the coliseum by ravenous lions, her dissolving body, thousands of individual granules of colored sugar, rained down upon him until he was completely buried. he shook it off like a small boy wiping away the sloppy, christmas kiss from his dreaded aunt esther. still encrusted and glittering like a krispy kreme fresh out of the oven, puppertwinkle barely had time to breathe a sigh of relief when tripod, still velcroed to the ghost, was released and fell down upon his head and knocked him to the ground. and that brings us back to now. puppertwinkle, too stunned to utter a cry of pain, silently checked his head for a lump. finding nothing, he stood back up, made sure he still had the alcance del mundo around his neck, shifted the weight of the saddlebags, and noticed tripod had lost the power of her crank and stood motionless. he was so grateful for her bravery. if it wasn't for her idea of attacking the sugar girl, he would be on his way to the kingdom of broken glass where only the great mother dog knew what would happen to him. he stepped over to turn her crank so he could properly thank her for saving his life when he heard a faint swishing noise coming from the bianca strada behind him. it grew increasingly louder as if something was approaching. afraid that it could be another one of proina's cronies, he grabbed the lifeless tripod in his teeth like a stuffed animal and scrambled into a dense privet hedgerow where he could hide. he laid close to the leaf-covered ground and trembled, unfortunately noticing that the sugar granules still sticking to his skin were beginning to slightly burn his skin. and then, suddenly, out of the stillness of his paranoia, he heard his name being called. 021218 what's it to you? who go blather from