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So here it was in-reality. The way I-feel : is a pervert. I am-truly a mis-congenitive, like the Christians always said. I have to-become - and love-Jesus but Not As-Much Mary. I have to become a dead-man loving gay-guy. He washes women's feet, so he is a pervert like-me. I should have taken-up the wraith. But I am not-gay. I tried to-be briefly. Was not the proper top-hat-intro. I caught Menagiants of mighty-moe, a joke too-much for me. I was a sexual idiot. When I had the chance I blew-it. But we were two of a kind, and neither not suited to upper-story similes.

So why-I purported, and Christ-not ? The Sheriff of Notingam. Begone-Gort. I am in my hexiplexi-sphere, the spaceship control-room of Klautu. It was not-Gort that stopped-the-world. The message went to interplanetary-headquarters. They did it. But by-Gort-not - you are beautiful, all-shining, all-powerful, the anti-kryptonite, with the transfixing blazer-gaze of, until death do-us art. What-sex was Gort and assumed by who ? - a man of course. Why not a woman - a no-mercy ma'am ? I can charm-her. Give me a chance. "Got ta Dance, Got ta Dance". If only I can get to-beg her-performance, then as I-am, am-I. She is the Holy-Tail, and I am the tale-of-her.

You just be David. David is a centaur statue-stallion. So you meet-them at fountain-monuments with white streaming-courses. And it is comedy turned tragedy, which strikes-you in the middle of your ripe-fruited plain. He needs money. Maybe she can-help. Yes - it was tragedy that struck-him down. His-cross was crucified. They nailed him to, a just-how-big on a hill, for all the world to see. But we never did-see, such a thing being-indecent - he hung-up-there, like in every church in the land, and even a dangle on the choker; but it would be giving the game away, to-show his membership card, intimating his asset-package.

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