. . .

Hyperwarp

Across the boundaries of space and time! Towards the nth dimension! We boldly go forward, looking ever back, that we might see our behind! We are... Those Wacky Bipeds!

Wick wack wick wack. Duck walk. Look out! WEB Crawling in to darkness. I will no longer make any sense. Any less sense than usual is the chance to see the wonderous antics of the generations of interstellar magnitude, hoping, nay, praying, nay, fearing the onslaught of the new collective, as the train travels through the tracks, transient, translucent, transparent.

We interrupt this important irrelevancy to quietly shout oxymorons.

I tend to take alliteration too far. It's a bad habit. I realize. I am ashamed. Ashamed! Ashamed of my great hubris! My pride is great, but my shame is greater! I AM MORE ASHAMED OF MY PRIDE THAN ANYONE HAS EVER BEEN BEFORE, AND I'M PROUD OF THAT FACT!

Is that good or bad?

"Sir?" Since when am I a sir? "Ma'am?" No. Not that either. "Y' Darn Frenchy?" Definitely not. "M'lord the Winner?" It'll do, Jeeves, it'll do.

Can't go on. Must return to *shudder* work.