affame_le_geant_to_thine_own_self fyn gula as saumboo tearfully watched the good idea fly away in her little rubberband-powered aeroplane, he waved, realizing he had two jobs to do. one was to ring 911 and provide emergency assistance to king mal as he surveyed the mysterious and terroristic disappearance of one of his four prize winning apple trees. but more importantly, the other, which for reasons of personal vanity and comfort, saumboo must find someone to tell the truth to for he didn't want to wander the earth alone with a fifteen inch nose beleagured by the swelling and pain brought on by angry wasp stings. saumboo looked about the room. telling the truth could be as easy as just rousing queen mauvis and explaining the reason why she passed out. or did it require the more difficult task of apologizing to king mal and confessing his lies, revealing what really happened to the cell phone? or was it even more intricate, telling the truth as a way of life? taking an honest, real approach to all he did, every interaction with another person, taking off the mask and costume. yes. saumboo was determined. this must be it. and then a strange thing happened. he could feel a tingling sensation on his face, like a thousand kittens were licking him with tongues yet to be sandpapery. could it be that his nose was shrinking to normal size and along with it the disappearance of the tormenting stings? he rushed over to the mirror. he was not afraid to look in. he was confident. YES! he was normal again. but he hadn't told the truth to anyone or was it because he told it to himself? 020408 what's it to you? who go blather from