by Joseph Natoli
Guest Writer
Dandelion Salad
Sept. 13, 2011
Chapter III
The Author is drawn up to the Floating Island of Babel
I spent a day and a night in a ditch, alternately shivering in the cold and scorched by the sun, which suddenly was eclipsed by a dark mass a hundred meters directly above my head. A grappling hook was lowered and I, too confused to fathom the event, was drawn up, rail, tar and feathers.
After several days I can report that I was again myself in body but my mind, having gone through a humiliating assault at the hands of the Trickle Down barbarians, was not as it had been on the day I had set out on my voyage. But as my own self-esteem was grounded as the blind Bard says on the just and right, I did not allow the injustices and lack of charity of others to abide with me for long.
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