In the heart of a Splendiferous garden, where the Custard Apple trees sagged with fruit, lived an old Educator. He lived in a Porous shack that allowed the Zephyr to whistle through the walls, yet he claimed the right to Usufructify the land as if it were a palace. He believed in a strict Yin-Yang balance: he would Anglicize the local folklore by day and indulge in wild Rodomontade by night, remaining Adamant that his tales were true.
His speech was highly Idiomatic, often comparing life to a high-stakes game of Tic-Tac-Toe. He considered his life’s Oeuvre to be a grand Vue of human folly. One evening, while delivering a mock Eulogy for a fallen branch, his Rationale was interrupted by a Lemming scurrying into the Inglenook of his fireplace.
He set aside a bowl of sliced Okra and Sassafras tea, staring at the chimney. He lived in a house of great Tonnage, filled with Gemmatrial scrolls and Meshuga inventions. With a bit of Gasconade, he bragged of the Depth of his wisdom to a portrait of a man named Thompson. He reached for a small Netsuke on the mantle, the Keynote piece of his collection, and placed it on a wooden Stalk.
Suddenly, he felt his memories began to drain through his mind like water through a Sieve. He realized he could not stay here Evermore. The Relevance of his stories began to fade into the quiet hum of the universe, a silent Discern-ment of the end.