Vulgaris

If you tell me all about the spotting deer: its sexual aqueduct, caudal mucus pit, and depressive tendencies, just to name a few; then you so lead me on to say that all is all. But my own skepticism of your own taxonomical work on the spotting dear, rests not in the dead skin cells on the creatures back, or in the polyps that feed on it, rather it stems from your own bibliography – that of a book inside a comic inside a book. Who are you to suggest that this is all about the spotting dear? Who are you to suggest, Mr. Author of the author, overseer of the all abouts. Oh Kay Figgle, Levan Rumble, and Buffalo Luck; you made it in black, cardboard, and ink. You brought me meat that can change to whatever it is I want to eat. Flankpalin alongside my prosthetic antler, so hand in hand I stand with you, as I forge this response to a comic so true. Spotting deer, it sniffs the book it lives within, because the spotting deer is you and I, walking bits of necrotic tissue, leaving ink spots wherever we choose to meet. (Capreolus Vulgaris), so oily black – you say it is that youohme, the terrestrial slugs, twist and form together. To you Deforge.