[addressing the narrator, named Widge] I'm only going to see that he learns a lesson, said Nick innocently. Now then. Widge, is it? You know what a widge is where I come from? My throat felt too tight to speak. I shook my head. A horse. I think I'll call you Horse, although I think you look more like an ass to me. […]

What scourge for perjury / Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence?

Second, by intentionally eliciting the shaming stare, Cubacub positions the queercrip body as an active agent rather than a passive object of the gaze.

The woodland creatures ran from the fire.