Pointing at Tboi, his arm and hand extended were so long they nearly bisected the entire little room. The Bishop roared, “You deserve to be removed from our sight. Your stench is so hideous I fear I’ll have to wash for days to remove what biological hazards you carry, you rat. But instead, you will get a merciful choice from our esteemed and benevolent Ancestrian law. Think on it and answer wisely, for if you manage to return from any pilgrimage here on Kepler-Z, know that I will still be here. And I will remember your beady eyes and your disgusting mole-like face, Lorgose refuse.”
Tune in for quick reads of the best (or least despicable) selections from the previous day’s word count, by virtue of my daily writing regimen for the National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). WARNING: editing has not taken place.