Otho shits down his legs. You cannot take
him anywhere. His head is tiny too.
Libo has gentle farts. You could mistake
them for a sigh or breeze. I hope that you
are getting irritated, Caesar. I could make
fun of Sufficius, next – somehow it’s true
he’s senile yet again. Great Lord, I’ll make
fun of your friends to make fun of you too.


About rozkaveney

Middleaged, trans, novelist, poet, activist
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