Siddhartha Huff was dubbed official Shootist for the Shot. The Posse of Matrons’ totemic dais pose, captured with campy barbarism by the primeval “camera” at the annual ball, wreathed with an old-school aura the fashionist selfocracy sustained by ectomies of the ding-peopled organ donor substrate. Unbeknownst but to Nick and now to you, the Shootist honor brought Sidd closer to his secret goal of transitioning to a Mamasutra.
Nick assumes you’ve done a spit-take on your kombucha here. Yes, you heard right: transition to Mamasutra. This starkly linear revelation clamors for shading and modeling, Nick realizes.
As a scion of the Beni Huff, Sidd should have been solid as The Rock in his Rhipidistian identity. He was a birthrightful paragon of the overlordship. He came from a biological line of Rhips who voted rancidly with old money. His ancestor had been one of the wordsmiths of the Magnificat of Prismatic Multiplication, the sacral text of donorism and dispositive scripture of state. It will come as no surprise that Sidd held the prestigious chair of Elective History at the Heritage Foundation. Why would such a personage wish to undertake the arduous transmigration from Rhip to Mamasutra? Was doing so even possible physically, nay psychically? These are the questions that burn your tongue, hypothetical reader, mon semblable, ma soeur.
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