when open pits of gibbering sludge do gyre and burble on the page
and vasty deeps of pimpleworts wave foul exuberances in their mad ehortations
then and only then will the One become Several, and the Myriad Myrmidons pale into the mist...
in other words: I'm so tired I'm getting pretty smegging wierd in my head, and shall perfoce retire anon
I'm tired too. I'm not sure how long I'll last.
Good night and rest well KP.
That prose smacks of Kipling...if he were hammered. :-)
LOL, I was giving people some odd mental images earlier.. sorry if I inadvertently added to them!
"in other words: I'm so tired I'm getting pretty smegging
weird in my head, and shall perfoce retire anon"
Pity, that's when I think up some of my best stuff. ;-)