For your reading pleasure, Tempest presents yet another exquisite example of romantic narrative…

The Immortal, Forbidden, Unconquered Kingdom
by Ptolemy Strongarm-bar Feynmann, MA

   No; the frightened girl was not pleased. Not at all! Neither the sweet orchard smell nor the humble comfort of old Mindy’s hovel impressed her, and it was all because he wasn’t there. Intellectually, she realized that Long Jacques, the subterranean bold bandito who had been so gentle in her arms, had a full life in which he was struggling for life in the intensive care ward, and he could not be expected to hold any consideration for the pleasure of one sleazy, perilous girl. Intellectually, she knew this. And yet…
   Truly, it had been a most tawdry, passionate day when Quentin’s shocking revelation had brought him to her attention.
   At that moment a flurry of activity shattered her composure into a million green and pleasant pieces! She struggled in vain with her sudden panic. Surely it could not be — but it was! At the door, the perilous and masculine face she had come to know so well! “Without you I am nothing,” he expostulated while he went down on his knees and implored her to forgive him. “I need you, my Oriental pearl!”
   Then, without any warning, as the music in her heart rose to a new crescendo of happiness, she knew that life without him was unthinkable, if not quotidian. Wthout him, could she ever have realized that it was now only a matter of time before they would be feeding off of each other's precious bodily secretions?

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