Sonneteer's note: this is the latest installment of an on-going sonnet serial, Pepito Mojito: The Interstellar Feller. New readers can get up to speed by clicking on the "Interstellar Feller" tag below to bring up all installments. Start at the bottom and read your way up to today's...
"--No, wait, that's all, in fact. Just bring him here,"
Her Lord concludes. Yectara, ashen white,
And still in pain, nods, quivering in fear
And sets a course. They head into the night,
The Grokulator's crew, and in their wake
The fragments of the myst'ry planet float
Into oblivion. Of this we make
Just what we will. Mass murderers of gloat
On their achievements; Pepi, though, cannot
Recall just what he's done, it seems; when asked
Just why he did it, he just shrugs. No spot
Appears upon his conscience. Blithe and blank
And happy, he is innocent and frank.
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