[…] her ports being within sixteen inches of the water […]

It cannot be, this weak and writhled shrimp / Should strike such terror to his enemies.

When Sachie got out of the tub and got her baby out of the tub her mom had her talk down the drain to the fishies and froggies. […] Are you ready fishies? Are you ready froggies? Both Sachie and mommy asked together. One, two, three they pulled out the plug. And they watched the water go down the drain.

I inhaled sharply, and got coffee instead of air, which my body expelled with a painful snough (sneeze-cough). Worse, I spilled coffee down the front of my — er, his — snowy-white shirt.