Reviving the wits of a silly Scarlattan often takes shocking turns. Father, thank You for every well-aimed zap that keeps me a straight flying bird! Below, a fanciful reenactment in verse.



Sauced
Completely and utterly
Sloshed

Imbibing
Left me in Caer's square
Aspiring

Inspiration!
I cried, gazing up at Him
Temptation

Stumbling
Hiccuping, singing quite horribly
Fumbling

Zap!
Hair on end, sobered
Slapped

Divine
Intervention, toes on end
Inclined

To next time keep boisterous, be-rum'd thoughts to myself!


Penned by my hand on the 5th of Miraman, in the year 641 AF.