the financial conditions of the rex-garg

The electromechanical Lord of Lissis-T'Nellepont, one singularly odd Gastrogrieg Rinelphron, has made it his life's purpose to invent a type of singing pastry, to wit, an Operatic Muffin, capable of belting out the high notes, a la alto, tenor, and a variety of other Italian classifications for singing pitch that were condemned in the Musical Inquisition of The Year of the Rotting Turnip. Because the financial stability of the entire land was at risk, it was eventually decided that all ten thousand of the precessionaries who demanded the putative singing pastry would be given compensatory damages in kind at the end of the fiscal year. I, of course, being one of the centennial collectors employed by the treasury to make sure that such plans are executed properly, had no say in the reprehensible, final, outcome: I had to make due with half a dram of Salgjarje extract every day, and living in a hut at the edge of the city with enough materials to make thin and reedy soups and teas: I had the other essential ingredients of life: a dry roof over my head, pens and ink, various peculiar and exotic texts concerning the religious significance of projective sheaf-moduli preserving abstract weight conserving complex functors in high meditative states: all in all a good life, but not wet enough: life was, and still is quite, quite dry. I suspect that life may get a whole less dessicated shortly.