Sometimes I surprise even myself. The awful part of it is that I get away with it. Really, surprising yourself sneaks up on you like the smell of a distant and very veiny looking cheese. Vericose veiny if you know what I mean?
Lately, I have been writing letters to people because I caught a bug, and I can feel its presence as if it were alive... I have become exactly what the bug infected me for in the first place. I have become a Babblestalker.
And it doesn't confine me to stalking people with my babble in just one rudimentary language or in some glottal atonality. No, I use Internet translation services to hack my vernacular slants into other languages and send off what I consider to be VIM (Very Intelligent Missives) to 'deserving' parties.
The only true cure will come with a flood of VIMs from other Babblestalkers with bugs bigger than mine. Then my bug would learn its worth, and like some vampire staked to the elemental earth it could die its mortal death like the rest of us.
-- babblestalk me if you care --
-- babblestalk me if you dare --
-- babblestalk me high --
-- babblestalk me low --
-- babblestalk through your dreams --
-- until babblestalking grows --
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