From Count Andreas Petofi: Exceeding the Grasp, an autobiographical gift of letters, lore, and lyrics.  Volume V

When Beth Chavez was overcome with her womanly impulses at the sight of my tousled locks, so like those of a Grecian god that they are, my heart grew positively bulbous with pity, and thus, I had little choice but to accept her as what I had hoped would be a loyal and capable assistant.  The luck she displayed with regard to tossing the I Ching wands was regrettable in the extreme.  As regrettable, I learned, as was her rather gustatorially flaccid execution of béchamel sauce.  Granted, it must be mild, but it was as if I were consuming a ramekin of thickened water… almost as disturbing as the shadow realm to which she journeyed in her trance of the I Ching.


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