Events have come to pass in the world beyond the roots. Suns rise and set and moons whirl loudly through the sky. It is hardly a day I cannot imagine without honking and tumult. People place their cake wrappers wherever they wish. Milk is bitter and without a drip of honey. No job is done by the men who desire to labor and those who do not wish labor are left to languish in the ditches. Such is the way of politics as usual.
You may have heard some blether regarding me.
I apologize if my scandals have... outraged you. I do not contend them. I took the lamp. I did say those things to the man in the well that were on the taped recording. The Wicked Leech did hack my courriel and show my... private recipes to everyone. These are not important. These are the attempts by my cunning foes to distract from the issues.
These are books for you to enjoy. Honey for milk. Which is the best thing to drink. And I want all people to come down into my cellar. I hope I did not say any of that loudly.
I also cannot go outside. I believe my foes have taken advantage of this weakness and they are outside now, scritching wherever they like and eating the plumpest worms. I cannot get them to come inside or go into my cellar.
Truly, softly, earnestly, I must apologize once more. I am attempting to distract you from the issues, which are my terrible scandals. The shame is upon me even now. When I am not speaking to you I seethe at my weakness in past, present, and certain futures.
Oh, my friends, this lamp is so glorious. It is tall and mostly straight and provides ample light for all endeavors. Porridge, my eyeless companion, stares without seeing, but is warmed by the light all the same. I know he likes it by the lessening of his pinches and the greatening of his clacks.
The m... man in the well was also very rude. I did say those things to him. I told him his voice was an unpleasant warble and I said if he came near to me I would grab him in my softest hand. This is my bathroom hand.
I do not know how the Wicked Leech downloaded my courriels. It is possible he used the bot net. He spread my business to all points of the compass. Now you have seen that I have sent 30,000 emails saying "hello? how are you?" to my opponents. They never respond to me so I am worried they may be in jeopardy.
Please, if you wish to make America g... gigantic again, I am your President of choice. I am the largest creature vying for this title presently. I am also the softest. I have touched more people than either of them. My cellar is larger. I have more bones in my ossuary. I am friend of the grotto folk and the shrieky burrowmates. They are natural enemies and yet they are friends in my presence.
I am here in my cellar. I am protecting my egg in peace, welcoming to all visitors who do not touch the egg. Please come down to the cellar.
Please tell me I am the president. I am ready to serve you.
I will not speak to you again until I am the president. Not even by courriel.
We're not going to solve gun massacres with bad manners, people.
The guns are gone. Now what happens to all those paper targets? Don't tell me you forgot about the paper targets. The ones hanging from little clips on fancy clotheslines at shooting ranges. With no guns to destroy these legions of paper bastards, they go unchecked.
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