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Trostadore was sick from coffee, and he felt like throwing up, and he tried and tried and tried... but he couldn’t!
He could feel the active ingredient working its magic, buzzing his senses, twisting his stomach. The horrible pain! He rolled around on the floor, whining and muttering... he would soon have his visions! Trostadore miserably chewed on more grounds. His teeth were black and he was nearing delirium.
His parents came home and found him, in this horrible state, beside a pile of black grounds and said, “Oh God, not again! The sick boy is obsessed! And if he pursues his visions any further, then our secret will be discovered!”
The mother gazed out the window at the fields, where abnormal humanoids tended the fields, and their abnormal supervisors flew over with their whips, ever-vigilant. “A strange situation we have found ourselves in, and not one easy to deal with. But the wisdom of Yertora is unsurpassable, and nobody can stop it!”
But Trostadore had begun to speak with Yertora herself, and all his questions were soon answered.
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