The Story of a Kitty Pure
An extemely loose translation of Lina Schwarz
Lina Schwarz, Agent 226 of Illuminati Ganga, noted poet and mapper of the involuted night skys of the interior world of Bunburyland.
Bunburyland, toasted to a crisp on the coals harvested from the fields of Unchristmas is not mappable in the way toy soldiers in an infinite array are mappable, but it is circumscribable and it was the genius of Lina Schwarz to understand this ability to circumscribe the 24 sectors of Bunburyland via stored memetic poem signature would allow for control of the quickly growing infestation that Bunburyland represented.
She and the other memeticists working under the tutelage of IG Agent 164, Louise Hammarström, beneath the city of Napoli were able to bring the unruly mass of dreamstuff that otherwise would have threatened the mental wellbeing of much of the Mediterranean with her poetic boundary markers.
The most famous marker she composed was of course Stella Stellina
Stella stellina
la notte s’avvicina:
la fiamma traballa,
la mucca è nella stalla.
La mucca e il vitello,
la pecora e l’agnello,
la chioccia e il pulcino,
la mamma e il suo bambino.Ognuno ha il suo piccino,
ognuno ha la sua mamma
e tutti fan la nanna.
which lay on the outer boundary between Bunburyland and the Land of Nod.
Still, there are a number of other ones, including “La storia di un ermellino” which was recently mangled by a drunken IG Agent 18 in the hopes of producing English versions of the original Italian boundary markers, successfully as it turns out, for a new concoction of Bunburyland that has been decanted from the original mass to a new container in Sarasota, Fla where it is stable and growing, tended by some memeticists, a single engineer on loan from the House of Fug, and a black ops team in the case The Principality of Wavewrack and Fog attempts any attack.
The English poem that Agent 18 provided to mark boundary 7 of Bunburyland — Caturnalia — has been reproduced below, I hope you can admire the sturdy understructure of the verse
Pure Kitty, Black Heart
The Passion of My Aunt Dora
Is her cat, a great Angora
With its tail, gigantic, white
Soft as Snow on Winter Nights
once It passed as I at table,
studied best as I was able
padding past an inky pot
padding past, so I caught
the tail, that if black, I thought
would look an ermine — as it ought
The Ermine is a royal beast
Or pretender to some throne at least.
Thus day dreaming I dipped the tail
It went cold black from frosty pale
Surprised at my own unthinking act
With rhyme scheme somewhat intact
I shouted “What” and with a snap
that darn cat ran to Auntie’s lap.
Auntie Looks, dumbfounded
smartens up, more confounded
calm, ermine theory I propounded
on which my noble act was founded
From bad to worse,
this makes her curse
She claims me an utter sinner
and threatens next to cancel dinner.
Although in all I’m quite elated
my dinner, I fear that cat has ate it
Auntie claims I am the meanest -
My idea was pure black-hearted genius
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