“Anger! Blame!”

– I exclaimed, as I stumbled through a puddle of some depth and breadth, unseen in the morning twilight, on the path by the park. Both of these feelings directed towards the makers of the path, who didn’t make it flat enough so that the water would drain onto the grass; and also towards the weather itself, which had had damnable spite to rain when it was too dark to see the puddles relating to such.

How dare thee weteth my socks!


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