The penultimate voyage of St. Paula Apprentiss

I bring for your birthday two ripe melons.

None could but acknowledge that it were a convenient conceit to pretend that the bell tolls for thee. She broke a heel as she fell.

I don’t know what felony or misdemeanour sent you to this here prison, but I plan to make your stay most forgettable. Right off the bast, would you like some juice? We’ve got cumquat sperm in alium ambergris from Moby Dick, procured at extreme personal risk by Mark O’Polo of the Great White Nort.

You’ve said a mouthfull already. Best to zip your lips.

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