° I turned aside at the last minute (the car in front led the way, a Crazy Radio New Dimensions leading) to Café Cocco. For Killer of Sheep was showing across town in 20 minutes.
° And there he was, the one to whom led. Ynaq.
° Ynaq with his hair all trimmed into a mohawk, but not waxed up. Just a soft and inviting trickle of soft tan fur from forehead to nape.
° It was Midsomer, my submind had been whistling Mendelssohn, and I just popped out the first thing that came to my tongue: "Bottom, thou art quite translated!"
° Whereupon Ynaq retorted that--well I blushed clear to the roots of my own hairy ass's ears. Curse Shakespeare.
° "Right-ho," I replied meekly.
° And there he was, the one to whom led. Ynaq.
° Ynaq with his hair all trimmed into a mohawk, but not waxed up. Just a soft and inviting trickle of soft tan fur from forehead to nape.
° It was Midsomer, my submind had been whistling Mendelssohn, and I just popped out the first thing that came to my tongue: "Bottom, thou art quite translated!"
° Whereupon Ynaq retorted that--well I blushed clear to the roots of my own hairy ass's ears. Curse Shakespeare.
° "Right-ho," I replied meekly.
§
° In my coffee scum a perplexing figure: an extraordinarily mishapen sheep? I put it down to inept wizardry on Ynaq's part.
° But lo and behold, it was the dogmask the daughter wore in Killer of Sheep.
° So as wizard, at any rate, Ynaq is tops.--Giac to Coz
