Fintan, shoed only in gummy-soled boots, plowed trudging through waist-high jujube-black snowing snow and sighing fatigued, said ‘I deplore the damnable Jesuits all’. His great-scrappy hands, hammocks of loose variegated skin, held tightly a sack of brownish paper in which he toted a bevel and mortise-rake for raking stone and beveling. In neither garrets nor sack-clothes was he attired, as he felt that these were relics of god-fearless cunning and wholesale connivance’s. A jujube-black Civet cat, eyes yellow-spidery slits, eyed him intently, chewing garishly on nettles and roan-brown scats that had fallen free from thorn, thistle and stemma.
Denticulate Blazes Boylan macerates the licescales and dogsbodies from between dear, warbling Molly’s scabbard-red thighs jiggling jolly piggish. Thus bespoke Bloom cuckoldedly. Godsfearless young Stephen Dedalus intones; gods be with you, damnable Jesuit cunts! And is done with it, tutor-money accounted for and pocketed among lint and mint-wrappings. Recently deceased Paddy Dignam’s funeral procession recrossed over the suet canal that bifurcates thighs wide the city of Dublin gods’land so say the Jesuit brethren. This funereal procession, of course, pretenses a dead, rotting corpsebody stuffed waiting with viscera and chewable idbits. A grocer or abattoirist’s gold mine, one might suggest.
