The sanitary enclosure which has been provided (at cost) as, in effect, a sanctuary in which to abundantly finger a sorepoint, is increasingly lessening the time needed to eclipse the wanton tailspins that this generation—moreso than any other in history—regards itself duty bound to evince and evade by any means necessary. This is the situation into which I and my team were thrust just four short seconds ago at the behest of a namby-pamby Executrix on duty at this segment of the sector, so help me God. Now, to my utter delight, it seems a delegitimization campaign is rearing its not-so-ugly head as a raging raft of warnings appall even the hindmost to which we owe our extra-dimensional crapshoots.
If there's a shorter version of the person I pretended to be during my youthful training period, I would request that someone in your relaxed position call for him (or it, or her, for that matter) to make a bold announcement that will fly like wind through generative jelly. The oily taste will only be momentary and a flipping sound is only peripheral to the galactic sound-cloud we crave to induce. You might find your mouth to have been concealing previously unknown sanctioned substances. They will control you to the nth degree. This is not a time to begin worrying, because, try as we might, our hands are tied. All is for the best, but a cull is not the worst that can happen, far from it in fact.
If you or your people observe my vehicle in a transition zone, you will be asked to enforce any manner of 'knock-on' effects which render a foreclosed obcision null, with 'roid accents. The police are to be given any realistic numbers you've had time to generate. Then it will be up to a quality enforcement clique to scale the heights of a mapfinder's calling, approach the closed circle with impish ennui and scold whichever truants choose to regain consciousness. At dawn or dusk the connecting threads are expected to proceed in a novel direction and offer only limited resistance. The rare bit of tasteless film can be flecked off with just a slight movement of the head. You shouldn't find much to complain about when you receive your packet. Whether either I or my trusted associates decide to intone a multi-frequency loop bomb is best left to your better half. Now it begins. Drain nightly. Absolve heft. Imbibe.
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