fall over exhausted.

Shulunque of the Dossavoi perorated, perforated. do not spindle, fold, or mutilate. Shulunque was very tired. Things had (with a few hiccups), been preoccupyingly hunky-dory of late. Shulunque looked at a wedge of cheese. Wedges of cheese are bad impostors. When was the last time you saw a wedge of cheese with a fake moustache, alligator clips for ears, a bombelier, a swinnet, and a tureen, pretending to be an aficionado of World Worf II era klingon love odes? Probably not in the last seventy thousand years. You would perhaps be Shulunque of the Dossavai? Or would you be yet another cheese wedge, also masquerading as the Empress of the Shepherd Moons? You would, I suspect, not be Shulunque of the Dossavai, and neither would you be a sneaky cheese wedge. Shulunque would not comment, tho, at least not in a way you might grok with ease. There would be a series of leaves attached to a piece of paper, letters in a green language not known to anyone not in the proximity of the Dossavai. They would perhaps spell out something in the green language. Were you asleep?