affame_le_geant_swallowing_words fyn gula puppertwinkle was all about listening. he remembered, during the recent flashing of his life, in which proina nearly succeeded in snuffing out his tiny flame, how dennis used to make him an integral part of his clown show. he gave him voice commands and encouragements that induced tricks and clever responses from him. "showtime!" dennis, as cracka thee clown, would shout. "are you ready? come on, show us you're a good little boy!" and so, teedo(puppertwinkle) would stand up on his back legs and dance about, performing his little "show" for the small crowd that gathered. he would anticipate a small treat that followed from the pocket of cracka's multi-colored, vertically striped pants. maybe a fragment of an organic corn chip or cheese puff, but most likely an individual piece of iams cat food. in any case, puppertwinkle did tricks for food based on the spoken word. he even gave five when he was done. that made the audience say, "ohhhhhh!" and so, let us go back to where the little dog has passed out from a temporary lack of oxygen and having swallowed lungs full of freezing water is now in the delicate process of being rescued. when the myriad of voices exuded from a range of figures standing on the shores between death and life and the tiny chihuahua was mesmerized by their art of persuasion, it was as if in this meticulous act of hearing, these admonishing words were written on some kind of paper that he actually swallowed. for he wanted to do nothing but obey and in the willingness to sacrafice himself on proina's altar, he not only employed hs ears, but his mouth as well. his whole body would now become a temple for the presence of love. lovegivinglovegivinglove givelove loveisgiving this of course is the activity of his subconscious which time cannot stain. however, we must return to puppertwinkle's conscious world. time, here, is of the essence and rapidly running out. it is also here that something absolutely incredible has occured. 021024 ... megan melting on my tongue 030330 what's it to you? who go blather from