the ship’s husband, knowing the hingeworms of the gutter with some rival rialtos anywheres between Pearidge and the ist, the wright side and a boatshaped blanket of bruma air- sighs and hellstohns and flammballs and vodashouts and every- thing to do, replacing mig wandering handsup in yawers so yeager for mitch, positively cover the nakedness of an Extor-- reor Monolothey Drink to Himy My fuckey^ and Dhoult