“The Goats Turned Plaid”

A Stratum XIII Friday brings the furley frosh of Reid III out from under their textbooks to the minigolf facility on Exlington Pike. Standard hijinks ensue, abetted by the syrupy tang of amaretto-psilocibina cocktails.
  The competitive concentration of the fellows is continually interrupted by bleating and petarade punctuating nigh their every proper attempt at an accurate putt upon the plastic green.
  Whence comes this foul intrusion?
  The culprits lay within eyesight: Caprine cavorting about the adjacent paddock.
  The absurdities of sight and sound amplified with chemical enhancement result in abderian fits incapacitating some of the men to prostrate howls of mirth. The outing thus forfeited, the furley crew sequestered themselves back in the darkened chambers of Reid to finish out the lingering effects of the spectacle.
  But one thing all can attest to: the goats turned plaid.

L’étrange Leurre du Comte

Magnolia Green Jumper

Lyssomanes variety

The World on Her Shoulders

Adult Heresy: Tantrum ’22

“It all hinges on what a civil, sane society will allow,” said some sage voice many moons ago. Sounded good at the time. Like a sense of shame might eventually kick in.
But today, attention and validation weigh heavy on both big screen and small. In fact, they outstrain the last fibres of societal glue holding together a civilisation of recycled waste.
“It’s your house of cards,” another voice once observed.
Societal Superegos in FAIL Mode guarantee the Path to Dust. But even in the end, this is what The Man really wants. You just have to know how to put the kids into Time-Out.

Wrath Upon the City

The embers grow from a simmer
until the coming of liquid fyre

The Healing Urchin

Echinacea variety

¡Estoy Harta! Promo

¡Estoy Harta!