Pancake Acid

After leaving Mourners Camp at eighteen, I briefly dated a girl named Buckets. She and I once took a wrong turn in a tunnel, and ended up in a vast field of gypsy cotton. The horizon seemed to stretch away forever before being swallowed up by a bluish sky. It was in these fields, which was worked upon by tiny, leathery men, where I learned how to request unlimited obedience from each of you.