What a bare, hotelish room it was! He tossed off his coat and sat for ten minutes looking blankly at the sputtering gas jet. Then his whole life, desolate as a desert, loomed up before him with appalling distinctness.

Oh shit, it was Fishscale! It was love at first sight. He nearly fell back in his chair. No mothafuckin' way! he yelled. He jumped up and danced a little two-step jig and thanked his lucky stars for the come-up. Fishscale cocaine! It was fucking Fishscale!

The second underlying purpose of the festival was that it was a way to foster nationalism and create a sense of Belizeanness independent of any of the cultural imports which were the mainstay of festival performances.

When Edna knocked at Mademoiselle Reisz's front room door and entered, she discovered that person standing beside the window, engaged in mending or patching an old prunella gaiter.