Smell that? That's the smell of new comic books. Oh, yes!
Sorry, coffee's out of the question. When I moved, I promised my mother that I wouldn't start doing drugs.
"What's in a name?
That which we call a rose
By any other word would smell as sweet."
Yes, well, I'm polymerized tree sap
and you're an inorganic adhesive,
so whatever verbal projectile you launch in my direction
is reflected off of me,
returns to its original trajectory
and adheres to you.