Bloatest in the Field of Vibrating Envelopes
Snickerum
knew intuitively what had happened. He
had failed to reset the alarm following the disruption of the clock’s power
supply.
“Thus it
went off at midnight,” he explained to Gabblegi.
“The
default setting,” the latter, smelling strongly of a defunct aftershave called
Equation, added.
“Indeed.” Snickerum nodded. His sad, David Hemmings-like bug eyes grew
more sad and more David Hemmings-like in their bugged-outedness as he examined
the other man. Did he know that Equation
had been part of the Sergio Valente line of men’s toiletries?
Outside the
secret city, to the northeast, stretched the field of vibrating envelopes, to
which the title of this piece refers.
.
