Have you ever heard of the repper who on a bright morning lit a lantern and ran to the catalog calling out unceasingly: "I seek Boymoder! I seek Boymoder!" — As there were many hons lurking about who did not believe in boymoding, he caused a great deal of amusement. Why! is she lost? said one. Has she strayed away like a youngshit? said another. Or does she keep herself hidden in her hoodie? Is she afraid of us? Has she taken an srs-voyage? Has she emigrated to reddit? — the hons cried out laughingly, all in a hubbub. The repper jumped into their midst and transfixed them with his glances. "Where is Boymoder gone?" he called out. "I mean to tell ye! We have killed her, — you and I! We are all her murderers! Do we not hear the noise of the transbians who are burying Boymoder in their polycule? Do we not smell the boysmellish putrefaction?— for even HRT putrefies! Boymoder is dead! Boymoder remains dead! And we have killed her!"
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