I chanced to be seated in an easy chair in the midst of a lush wood on Friday, with a scruptious velarium of oaks and pines suitably posited above, enjoying a bit of good quiet and the quite propitious weather. I devoured a thoroughly enjoyable volume, which was nothing less than a delicate literary comestible, and happened upon a story that was thoroghly less than pedestrian.
I read Poe often, and scarecly find him other than thoroughly macabre and cadaverous; yet his unnatural style is readable and fantastic.
So it was that I discoverd The Angel of the Odd, a story by Poe. It is, in fact, the purest and most delightful comedy.
Read it.
Or you will be afflicted by the most putrifying disease -- even so! -- and your last thoughts will be as you see in the afterlife strange demons declaring your death -- before your very eyes they will announce your doom!
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