affame_le_geant_part_3_begins fyn gula the wooden cart moved forward along the bianca strada, although somewhat erratic for the portuguese rescue squad were not good indicators of speed, that is the need for it, or how to slow things down. the twelve of them, a mixture of herons, storks, and parrots were attached to the cart by long, braided hemp cords and they pulled with more strength than they had, growing weaker by the minute. there was fluctuation in their efforts. times when they seemed out of control, especially when going down and times of frustration when it appeared they were barely moving up a hill. puppertwinkle, when he was not attending to the needs of saumboo, whose body, all except for his face consisted of stone, was screaming at the birds, mostly to slow down. he was scared as usual, but this time he had every right to be. one particular morning, as the sky was a brilliant splash of azure, the kind of air that felt like if you breathed it in, your lungs would be dyed the same kind of blue, there was a heated discussion amongst the birds as they pecked and sipped at their morning coffee. it seemed the bianca strada had led to an insanely steep portion and arguements arose concerning how to approach it. a stork wearing a hermes scarf and his legs painted turquoise was strictly against a straight on effort, adamantly stressing that they would stall immediately. a heron, whose back was sore, suggested they take it diagonally. a parrot hotly disagreed, remarking that they were already tired, switchbacking would add unnecessary work. and so this conversation continued long into the morning. the sun watched them like a mother at a neighbourhood playground. the clouds hung, portraits of happiness on the walls of the sky. many ideas were offered with sincere motivation but none of them were convincing. puppertwinkle refilled the latte bowls and gave them each a german chocolate kinder egg that the sleeping frau werzenwozen kept in a cupboard. the birds held them down with one foot and using their able beaks, unwrapped the foil and pecked at the shockolade, finding it instantly tasty, as we all do. inside, the surprise was visible, a little orange and yellow plastic egg. with all the excitement of a child on hoilday, they managed to open them and found toys, a dog that could chase a cat with wheels for legs, a smurf sleeping on a log, a bunny hiding in a basket. the birds thanked puppertwinkle and told him that if it wasn't for the surprises that exist somewhere in everyone's day, life would be a struggle, and happiness would be a ghost we think we saw. yet, this momentary pause did not erase the fact that a major obstacle existed and threatened to stop their movement altogether. it demanded resolution like a baby screaming to be fed and they had nothing but water to give it. finally, it was decided a transverse would be attempted. the hill was as fucking steep as the exits of hell and the footing was questionable. saumboo realized his stone body added considerable weight to the wooden cart and he sacrificially offered to be left behind, but puppertwinkle said they mind as well all get out if he wasn't part of the journey for time had made them one. and so, the portuguese rescue squad fortified the knots, sang a prayer for safety, and pulled with all the strength they had remaining in themselves. this was the hour. this was the time to give all. 020831 what's it to you? who go blather from