- Study (as in a room, not the verb)
Injustice The Thing in my study that whispers and sings, that giggles and snivels, that tickles and stings, a tangle of tentacles, ankles and wings, is burbling with ardor. It stirs with a whirr from its Chippendale chair, to comb its mysterious, copious hair, then bursts through the doorway and thumps down the stair to enter the parlor. The world, it proclaims, is corrupt and unfair: its knees are unshod and its eyeballs are bare; it hasn’t a barber. Its rage is explosive: your humanoid kings with little regard for the feelings of Things have emptied the larder!