It is unfathomable, I say.
Chance, the village repeater, says, “UnFAM-IT-BLE!” and smiles at me.
Louder than I was, but with more feeling.
I cringe, pre-seeing how this village meeting might unfold.
“Incomprehensible!” I announce, watching for eye movements.
An avid proponent of psttacism, Chance yells,”com-Rad-Visible!”
“Which means?” I ask him. He shrugs, flashing a mouth full of teeth,...
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