vīgintī novem

"Help me figure this out oh muse of shame."

Those were the only plagued words he could say. He couldn't think of any other thing.

He wasn't actually trying to think. All he was trying to do was going to figure out what was wrong. He didn't want to sort several thoughts.

He didn't have time for that. He needed something which would be urgent and raw. That was all that he could think of.

He possibly couldn't had thought of anything better. He did hope that he would be able to make meaning of the whole thing.

All was happening so quickly that he had forgotten that he was sitting on the serpent. He didn't know if that was even close to the truth.

How would he be forgetting that he was on an enormous beast? That should be a slap in the face of both the serpent and its owner.

He didn't think that was a crime. Of course not! When had saying ones heart become a crime? He didn't remember that.

All his contention was strapped to how to make the beast move. He wanted to propel it, urge it and make it lead him into the room with door opened.

That was all everyone who was sane would think of. He didn't know if he was really trying to be odd or something close to that.

He was hoping that he was making meaning of it. He was hoping that time would help him best. That was all he was putting up with.

That was all he was trying to fleshen up. He didn't know what to do or how to go about it. He would simply be upfront.

He would simply make his rage known. He didn't think that was the best option he could leap at. There should be several others he could leap on.

There were several others he could feel. He didn't know what that was. He was hoping that time would make him the rage he was wishing and dying of.

He hadn't been taught how to make the beast move. He hadn't ridden it ever. He didn't know what to do.

He hoped not to make mess of the whole thing. He couldn't had wished better of course. And he was afraid that the door again might be closed.

There was nothing impossible of course in that world of fantasy. He needed no soothsayer on that.

"Make your way into the room."

The same voice came again. He knew what that voice was. He knew whose voice twas.

If he did feign ignorance, then he'd be some dipshit clown. He knew that the voice did belong to Poseidon.

And the aforementioned was but some psychopaths. He hadn't figured out yet why he was still hiding from him.

Probably that was part of the games he was supposed to play in that world of fantasy. He didn't even know what to believe anymore.

He was hoping that he would do his best. He tried making a new route for the thought. He didn't know what to do.

He hoped that he would get it. Or it could be true. The monster could had set him up. Probably because he had been sassy and saucy.

Probably because his tongue would whisper sanity into his mental Ken. He didn't know. If that was the reason, then that was fair enough.

Even he would had done worse. He knew it. He quit the thoughts and decided to be a man.

There was nothing he could arrive at. All the thoughts were trampling upon one another. He was trying his best to fill the odds.

He didn't know how to go about it. He was trying to settle the dispute which had enraptured the poets.

There was nothing he could do about it. He didn't know what he could put up with. He didn't know what he could make meaning of.

He was hoping that those things would make sense to him soonest. The only thing he was able to hold unto was having the serpent move.

He had been in since forever. He didn't know what to do. He tried to remember all the animals he had ridden back on earth.

The only he could remember was the horse. If he did want the horse to charge or run without using a whip, he would had simply kicked its belly with his two legs.

And of course the horse would had been loaned to merry. He knew what that was.

He knew what that had been, but he had no idea if that would work well for him and the serpent.

There was no point in deliberating. There was no other option of course. He made the kick.

Hell was let loose! What was that supposed to mean. What was he supposed to do. Upon the kick, the serpent and roared in rage and had lifted its first two legs up tilting him.

If he hadn't been so skilled or something close to that, he would had fallen. That would had been great of course.

If he had fallen he wouldn't have to address the whole odds. He would know what he was supposed to do. He would gently walk into the room with no complications.

That was the best he could do of course. But he didn't fall. That was better left as a wish. He didn't know how to go about it.

Then the serpent turned from the direction it had been facing and where it was supposed to go. It made its way towards the door which had led them in.

The entrance door of course. He didn't know what was wrong with it. He had never seen it do that.

He didn't know why twas acting all wierd. He hoped that he would be able to figure out soon.

He was trying to remember if he had done anything amiss. He was was sure that he had done exactly what he was expected to.

He hadn't done worst. He didn't even know how to do that. He didn't know if he was sincere with himself or not. He didn't know if he was putting up with what would help him or not.

He didn't even know what thought he was nursing. Was he supposed to be nursing such thought? Wasn't he supposed to find his way into the hall?

Was that all he was supposed to do? Was that not all he was supposed to put up with? He was jerked back into reality as they got close to the entrance door.

He didn't know what would happen next. He didn't know if he would be glad or sad. He didn't know if the monster was trying him out again.

He couldn't be sure if that was some test or not. He didn't even know what was test or what was not. But he was surprised!

As the serpent got to the entrance, it did a mini slide with her two hands down and did a turn, which led him in a vying velocity into the room he had long waited for.

That room was smoky. He could say from what he was seeing that that room was where the smoky which had filled the room at entrance was projecting from.

There was nothing else of course to register with. There was a pot on a tongue of fire blazing all by itself without some attributions.

There was no wood supporting its rage, neither was there a base holding its pain. The fire was suspended in the air, immediately above the carpeted floor.

He hadn't seen that kinda of material on the floor before. He didn't know what to make of the world of fantasy. Twas becoming too much for him.

He looked at the body of the pot which was on the same fire. There was inscription on it; it had CAULDRON.

He was trying to remember where he had heard that word from. He wasn't sure if his instinct would give him.

He had forgotten quite the numbers of things and hadn't remembered any of them. That would then be a plus to the wasted effots.

But he was shocked. He could say that again. He seemed to be getting the brain behind what that was.

He had heard Myclops mentioned it as the soup of the odd ladies. That was what he had heard Myclops referred to that word as.

He didn't know why Myclops had made the name a code to spill. He dumped the thought and did what he felt best for him.

He walked towards the pot. He wanted to see what was in there and possibly eat from its delicacies. He hadn't see cauldron ever.

He had only heard about it. The aroma was sanity-crushing. No one would be able to steer clear of it. He was more than sure bout that.

He moved as quickly as he could from the beast. He had stepped off it. He felt like he had a new super power surging within his bowels.

As he got to the pot and was about to look into it, he heard a movement and voice behind him.

He almost peed in his hood. He turned to look as he fell on his back. Hell of a test!