🚀 go-pugleaf

   
I have have died the deaths which are numbered like the grains of sand.

I've been eaten by worms.
Immolated by scrolls.
Rendered into stony oblivion by the cockatrice.
Poisoned unto death by dart, by cadaver, and by potion.
Frozen and left for dead by floating eyes.
Stung to such miserable weakness that all blows against mine enemies
came to naught.
Brought to justice by indignant shopkeepers and vigilant guards.
Blasted, bitten, and burnt by dragon, dog, and demon.

And all of these deaths, to greater or lesser degree, have made sense to
me.

But is it right for a man, having suffered these joyless fates, to
fear the sufferance of death by choking? When a man has nothing to eat,
he comes to such an end as would make a minotaur weep. But is it just
for a man to come to such an end quicker for having had more than his
fill? Is it right, O my Brothers and Sisters, for a man travelling the 
famined halls of hack to be called a guest of Charon because he must eat
when and where he can? I tell you most solemnly: it is not!

In my pilgrimage through the world we call the real, I have begot 
myself to have more than my stomach could hold in its human frailty.
I tell you this: the number of such times are beyond counting. And I
tell you this also: rare's the time when I have choked to death for it.
Rather, I did retch and vomit as one does who has betaken himself of
tripe fit only for the curs who yawp and gambol at the heels of men.

Let him who has ears listen and understand.

-- 

Bill Houts
(a.k.a. Captain Chaos)
Cosmic Color Control 
tektronix!reed!houts

"This is supposed to be a happy occasion. Let's not BICKER and ARGUE over who 
 killed whom!"