Oh, Ms. Borade,

See what it is that you've done? You have submitted to us here at TQR a [gasp!] cap...this Uranus Calling... made up almost entirely of fart humour.

We are shocked, thrust backward at such force that we fall, reluctantly as you can imagine, upon the unclean glass tiles of The Floor where we are in danger of becoming stuck indefinitely in the yellow bile of Doomey's nightmare. And still, we...at least I...fail to escape the gaseous emissions that have evoked a kind of filmy, slightly unclean vision from places within my imagination I'm unsure have been visited prior to embarking on this trip to Uranus with you.

The repercussions? Those of the decidedly beef-like appetites who lurk upstairs in The Terminal must journey along your pages to see what they see, and turn as they turn, so to speak.

Let us see what happens.

Merci for your continued interest in the back alley rag known as TQR, and bon chance!

May the strongest gases always trail behind you, propelling you perpetually forward,



DeP
[Gabrielle DePlancher]
~ The Floor, TQR