Maplebuckler

A steamy room! Rife with denizens supping at the altar of life, it would seem. I, like my fellow man, will approach the altar, gazing worriedly at the shoehorn all the while. Vast, it seems, though not beyond comprehension. Wondering aloud at the lot which has been chosen on my behalf, I humbly request a decanter half brimming with the red of the most succulent of earthen berries. Wherefore, upon completion, the mist returns upon my weathered brow. Petulance