#391285 - Of course, I had to try a bowl of all the other entrant’s submissions, so as the sun faded, moonglow found me quite intoxicated on the spirits of grain and the phantom apparitions engendered by spicy stomach-churning contest contenders. Was this more pain for my tortured body and soul? Were additional nightmarish cruelties responsible for my aural and visual insight? *** Morning at my neighbor’s house: Cassandra Barnstable entered the kitchen where her mother had just prepared a steaming pot of coffee. Yet, how does one find defense when your opponents are nightmarish apparitions brought forth by booze and hot chili peppered meat? “My intent was not evil,” I argued with the succubinal bitch.