affame_le_geant_sugardonut fyn gula mesmerized by the cryptic message that the dissolving ghost of the sugar girl screamed forth in the hour of her demise, puppertwinkle was frozen into immobility by the sheer terror of what he was witnessing. as he continued to look upwards, even though everything inside of him was urging him to flee, a very bizarre thing happened. it was as if the vibrational force of the sugar girl's swan song became the decisive power to completely eradicate her from the face of kemulya. she was no more. down came the colored granules of sugary evil, an acid rain of glittery finality, heavy and sudden. there was such an abundance and with puppertwinkle being so small, he soon found himself utterly covered, as if a small child in a moment of abandoned giddiness threw a merino blanket upon him. he was buried in the dregs of the one who failed to kill him, a posthumous effort to stain him in the brittle moments of victory. puppertwinkle freaked. not only did he violently object to this unexpected shower by immediately shaking the ghastly remnants of the sugar girl from his short-haired, brown-spotted body and ralph lauren saddlebags, but he began yelping and whining, screaming, and running in senseless circles. horror tends to do this to us. and to puppertwinkle it reduced him to the foundation of who he was. a baby crying out in the night. he stood, like a sugar donut, encrusted with the fragments that didn't fall off. desperate. vulnerable. hopeless. never more alone in all of his life. and that's when tripod fell from the sky and bonked him right on top of his head. 021214 what's it to you? who go blather from