The greater the variety of intelligent life Don saw, the more he became sensitive to its presence. - Fritz Leiber

With a happy roaring shout only he could hear, blood rushed through the Mouser’s arteries toward his center, reviving his limp manhood in a mere moment, as a magically summoned genie offhandedly builds a tower.

Eventually the tale came to an end, suddenly and seemingly in the middle, like a piece of foreign music.

Naturally a parent pretends to his child to be a little more perfect than he actually is. To admit any of his real weaknesses would be too much like encouraging vice.