My name is Joe...
"Blazing shellac, sugar of milk, strontium, pitch, gum water, gerbs of chinese fire--for a few moments the air is ozone- sharp--drifting opal cloud of pungent dragon/phoenix smoke. For an instant the Empire falls, its princes & governors flee to their stygian muck, plumes of sulphur from elf-flamethrowers burning their pinched asses as they retreat. The Assassin-child, psyche of fire, holds sway for one brief dogstar-hot night."
