"Hark!" cried the captain of the wood caravan. "For the vark of the aard
lies thusly: Were the maze so vulgar would not it bring forth its own vile
children to engage the One Wood? Would not the incestial wood brothers seethe
forth unto our manias, our so-called slippery device couriers? Nay! Hear me!
For you seek to cannibalize your own tormented wood! Sacrifice not the 
homely wood-melon, nor the majestic wood-pelican of the great salty seas.
Sacrifice not, my beloveds. And lo! Behold the rank infestation of our own
wood sardines! 'Tis we and we alone who seek to destroy our One Wood, our 
One Custom Source."
   A contemplative silence filled the wood.
   Then spoketh Neptune from upon his mighty wood: "Aye, so it seems.
The woodcore contradicts its masters' own design. Let it be flown about,
nay! Let it become as the the carcass, proud and fierce as its own foul
love child. One thousand curses be upon him who bore these holes in my 
logic! Oh most horrid rain: Pitter-patter upon my broiling flesh no longer!"
    And so it came to pass.
   I bear my sour sluts, much as corn groweth on the stalk of the Lord. This
subtle truth we see made manifest by the myriad troops and trips: Yea, the Boy 
Scouts. And it be these same Scouts who we shall see prey upon our 
bold congregations of rotisary acetaminophen. But oh, gentle reader, can you 
not see the very life seeping from our soggy kibbles? Who among ye hath not 
your tender antenae plucked asunder with little regard for the usual 
cross-cultural gang signs and salad references?
   Must it be that we are so accustomed to sketching caricatures of Phut son
of Ham with his legs on fire that we have begun to misquote Gumby; to frighten
off ole' gray-head froglegs?
   Yes. And my airsacks are sagging from the weight of the helium.