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} The sad situation of keystroke logging is nothing new to residents of
} the Pacific Northwest, where healthy, free-standing keystrokes are
} cruelly harvested before their time by unscrupulous loggers and made
} into keyboards, then sold on the black market to be built into
} keyframe-houses for the very rich and, of course, new Stuckey's.
}
} But the newest blight on the land is the roving gangs of w**dch*cks
} laying straight-line traps. Many a would-be comedian has walked right
} into these, thinking them to be innocent, perhaps slightly humorous
} messages. Then the straight-line trap closes, imprisoning the victim
} until evening, when the prey is too weak from thirst and cold to defend
} itself.
}
} Then the horrid marmots come! Their feral teeth rip apart trap and prey
} together, biting, scratching, these horrendous creatures with their
} bilious eyes and swollen purple muscles, ravaging each limb down to the
} whitest bone, then taking wing by the thousands, shrieking, flapping,
} throwing a blanket of fetid darkness across the land!
}
} But all at once, when the night is darkest and hope is all but lost,
} there comes a glint of light from the farthest hillside... the Oracle
} with its Staff of ZOT! Raising it high, the Oracle begins to lay about
} with bolts and charges of pure fury, each seeking out a fetid marmot
} and rending its purulent flesh asunder! Stabbing inward to explode its
} sinister and dirty heart! A light like dawn streams forth from the
} staff, illuminating the Oracle's sweating face! Death! Death and new
} life!
}
} And then it is over. The true dawn comes and all the stinking carcasses
} wither to cabbage in the sunlight of morning and hope and reason and
} light! Light! LIGHT!
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![[IO]](https://kinzler.com/picons/db/domains/org/internetoracle/unknown/face.gif){kind=small}
