affame_le_geant_saumboo's_dream fyn gula whenever saumboo was troubled, he always spoke in english. shriveling in acknowledement of his own insignificance, puppertwinkle was frustrated and usually had difficulty following saumboo's syntax. his understanding needed refining, except for this particular time. saumboo spoke slowly, deliberately, as if his words had been weathered into a durable authenticity. puppertwinkle found himself stricken. he pulled down saumboo's statements as if they were engraved on the air. "i had a disturbing dream," saumboo said, and the little dog blinked his eyes, curious, waiting for him to reveal it. he vaguely remembered his own dream of rolling a log down the bianca strada. "you were gluing the dirty, rotten, mite-infested wings of feignez upon my back," he said, disgusted. his brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed. puppertwinkle felt a sharp pain in his chest as if the monkey who sat on his back had jabbed him with a sharp knife and shouted, 'traitor!' "dat eese loco mucho!" puppertwinkle cried, following the shocked outburst with a nervous laugh. saumboo seemed to perfectly ignore him and continued on with the retelling. "somehow i was part of what seemed like a circus wth a big top and fanfare. with my wings i was world famous and my act was to dive off things and fly to the ground unharmed. but, fuck, once i jumped and landed on a small group of various-aged children and critically injured the two adult chaperones, who were trying to protect the children and succeeded. puppertwinkle was dying inside. "it must be the work of proina," he thought, for the monster of ice and fire was notorious for using dreams as a blackboard for drawing out her plans of dissenion and dismay. puppertwinkle knew there was only one thing he could do and that was to distract saumboo long enough so his focus on the wings of feignez would become cloudy and ultimately be forgotten about altogether. he was breathing hard. his heart was racing visibly under his thin skin. anxiety was attacking him like angry bees and each time he imagined saumboo discovering he had put the things on him in real life, it felt as though he was being stung. "i have deese present number three to open," puppertwinkle said, desperately hoping saumboo had neglected to remember number two, the wings. the little dog never lied. besides, only cowards didn't believe in truth and justice. 021009 what's it to you? who go blather from