Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Rene Magritte High Society

Rene Magritte High SocietyRene Magritte DonnaThe King's Orchard
surprise at her previous employer's costume, whether because she'd seen it before or because of her present agitation. The "P.-G." paused and scowled, crook high. Mother clucked her tongue, nowise discomposed. The young woman held out the tangled skein and wailed: "It's the Founder's Scroll!"
The ex-Chancellor clutched his ailing arm. "The Dunce you say!"
"A-plus," Mother affirmed.
"The CACAFILE's gone crazy!" the young woman cried. "All these months the Scroll's been lost in it somewhere, and now it's spitting it out in ribbons!"
There was consternation among the scholars: one snatched a handful of the shreds, examined them, and groaned; others raced to the Cataloguing Office to pound on its locked door, and yet others to the Circulation Desk, where they clenched and hopped in vain to see the wisdom of the ages shredding forth.
"You!"my grandfather roared, thrusting a fistful of tatters under my nose. I closed my eyes, nodded, and took a mouthful of the ruins.
"What's hedoing?" the receptionist shrieked.
Mother smiled benignly and said, as if interrogated by a library-clerk

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