affame_le_geant_the_sugar_girl fyn gula "my name is puppertwinkle," the little dog said in spanish-accented italian. his syntax was expert, nevertheless, and this sugar girl had no problem understanding him as they conversed. "i know who you are," the sugar girl said, abruptly. he was about to explain his purpose and need for assistance when she suddenly interrupted. "you have a stellar reputation as the star who never fell, as the train that left the station, as the secret everyone will tell." her tone of voice was like one who took way too much georgia home boy, extremely lethargic. she gripped the throttle in a lame effort to combat her apathy, turning it backwards, revving the tachometer to six. the scooter engine screamed like a defensive housecat and two puffs of acrid blue smoke escaped from the twin mufflers, stinging puppertwinkle's nose. "and who are you?" he coughed and croaked with self-pity. his bony skull glowed with a cold, electric fire. he blushed at her words, yet he wasn't sure if it was appropriate to gloat because he didn't completely understand what she was talking about and how she, being made of sugar, even knew who he was and if her words of praise were actually compliments, criticism, or even metaphors dealing with another world altogether. therefore he avoided her comments and focused his attention on her instead, thus the inquiry about her identity. although he really wanted to ask, "why are you made of sugar?" because it was becoming increasingly difficult to look into her eyes when he spoke to her because it seemed her whole face was slowly dissolving like sand through a narrow-necked hourglass. "i am your surprise for the day," the sugar girl answered. she turned the scooter off, dismounted, and set the kickstand. she touched whatever it was that was in the basket and winced. she became sullen. puppertwinkle heard a noise come from the basket. it was the unmistakeable sound of a human baby's crying. the first time he caught a glimpse of the basket's contents he thought it could be a newborn infant, but now he was convinced. however, the child was a horrible mess of vernix and merconium. where its umbilical cord still remained attached, some of its viscera was dangerously exposed. its cries were its first and soon to be last. as the sugar girl continued to speak, the baby's pain-induced high pitched screaming made it impossible for puppertwinkle to hear. all he wanted to do was comfort this victim of horrific tragedy, instead, the sugar girl ignored the wailing in order to have her say. "i am everything you want and nothing you need. i am the rush of satisfaction and the emptiness of your hollow soul. i am the illusion of wealth and the truth of poverty. i am petrol on the fires of infidelity. i am the dissolution of love." sick and tired of the baby's misery, the sugar girl brought her bocci-motoguzzi riding helmet straight down in one swift move of explosive anger and smashed the child to a deathly silence. puppertwinkle swallowed hard and turned his head away from the unexpected violence. the sugar girl picked up the ghastly blob of humanity and tossed it like a piece of garbage into the woods. it rolled over and came to a rest where it would soon become food for maggots. the sugar girl seemed unaffected by her murderous action. she rubbed her hands together trying to clean off the slime of the newborn. she stepped up to the little dog. "let me help you into the basket," she said. "i will take you to where you want to go." 021121 what's it to you? who go blather from