Dampen the Season in Her Gloom

“You're suspended in mid-air, and you're part goat.  Pardon my French, but what the bleeding heck?  The peeping-tom poltergeist in the locker room was bad enough!”

“There's a resident pervert of the spiritual nature in every changing room full of nubile young maidens,” Puck said sagely.  He landed on his feet and scuffled towards me.  The sprite stood tall, bent over like a slender tree.  His limbs were long and sinuous, and his tail swished in the breeze.  Puck's yellow eyes danced with amusement.  “Oberon puts those shades to shame, though,” he whispered confidantly.  “I'd hasten to lock my doors, were I you.”

My cheeks blazed red.  “You're disgusting, the both of you.”

Puck laughed jovially.  “Pardon if my coarse manners offend.  I tell it like it is, sparing no truths betwixt.  What might I say?  My kind loves a merry ro