along my cheek was acid. My hair was on fire
with a great green burn. I knew this instinctively.
At pains to deal with this development, I sped
faster than I should go. I soon began to flag.
Again, instinctively, I knew my hair had
burned clean away, and that I was balder
than a new fig now and for a while to come.
I brushed away the grit, my breath heaving,
laughing to have my life, gulping the
beautacious air. Never again would
I seek in the devil in his lair. Let that
sucker be, is my credo now, I think.
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