affame_le_geant_swallowing_hard fyn gula jamjar buzznudder swallowed hard. even for the alacrious individual, destiny can be the bitter drink one has no choice but to imbibe, for otherwise fear spins the world around and consumes us instead. refusing to surrender, we find ourselves buried under the burdenous weight of a tremendous depression. and so, jamjar pushed the end button on his miniscule cellfone and the voice of boffden was instantly reduced to a request, an arrow in his soul he could not remove and he felt himself to be already lifeless, the air leaking out of him like a bicycle tire with a nail, his essence dissolving like soap left too long in the shower. the handful of menschlieche hummels that remained hovered about him, their wings buzzed methodically, keepinfg them still like a swimmer treading water. they caught snippets of the monumental conversation, yet they already knew from studying the book of kemuyl all their lives that jamjar was the chosen one and they took on a hushed reverence for him, not so much a sadness, more an inspirational envy. they respected his meditative silence and waited patiently for his orders. he spoke to them in german, telling them that the time had come for him to go on alone, that he would have to accomplish the task that he had been preparing for all of his life. "go back to your families," he told them, blinking away the tears. "and become heroes to your families. play with your children. listen to your wives, call your mothers, work with your fathers(if you have one)." they saluted him then and though the moment's sanctity humbled them into speechlessness, they departed, yet for years afterwards they spoke of his courage and sacrificial integrity. 020714 what's it to you? who go blather from