📜 Judicial Appendix 431-C bis

After completing the clinical trials, the author made the unfortunate decision to look in the mirror.

After several seconds of silence and visible bewilderment, she declared:

—That woman is not me.

According to reliable sources, she seriously considered filing a formal complaint against the well-known image-editing program responsible for the experiments.

The complaint listed the following charges:

• Unauthorized excess of youth.

• Eyelashes of irresponsible length.

• Scandinavian-goddess hair without prior consent.

• Excessive discrepancies between reality and the program’s state of mind.

Gregorius advised caution.

Aurelius reminded everyone that he had already warned them about the risks.

Sister Piety had to leave the meeting because she couldn’t stop laughing.

Sister Chastity asked:

—Mother Patience… if we sue the program, will it give us our wrinkles back?

Without looking up from the sock she was darning, Mother Patience replied:

—No, my child.

Wrinkles come back on their own.

Dignity… sometimes doesn’t.

“Ladies… if the program takes thirty years off your face, don’t look in the mirror before breakfast. The shock is worse.”

📜 Classified File 12-F

Incidents involving turnips, delicate humidity, and unauthorized activities in the Fresh Room.

This file remains partially classified.

Several documents were lost, others were burned, and some…

are best left unmentioned.

The Institute of Applied Freshology confirms only one fact:

excessive ventilation also carries risks.

The remaining information remains in Gregorius’s custody.

End of file.

📜 Internal Memorandum of the Ministry of the Attic

The Department of Applied Freshology reports that documents drafted in the presence of turnips, delicate humidity, or unauthorized activities in the fresh room show a statistically significant tendency to multiply.

Staff are reminded that:

• A Word document left unattended never remains alone for long.

• Appendices appear spontaneously.

• Footnotes may develop a life of their own.

• Decrees, if left unsupervised, eventually become trilogies.

Gregorius summarizes the matter in a single sentence:

“Word documents, when left alone with delicate humidity, have a tendency to multiply.”

The Department accepts no responsibility for any folder containing more than 247 files.

For reasons that need not be specified.

“…may the Mother of Freshness watch over us.”

📜 DECREE 52-M

On the Just-a-Little Trap

The Just-a-Little Trap shall be deemed to include any statement containing:

• “Just a little.”

• “I’m only going to look.”

• “Nothing will happen.”

• “It’s only going to be a short post.”

• “I won’t write any more.”

• “There’s no way this could become a trilogy.”

Experience has shown that these statements are followed, in 98.7% of cases, by the appearance of:

📜 three appendices,

📜 two classified files,

📜 one judicial investigation,

and at least one desperate intervention by Gregorius.

Historical Note

Sister Chastity’s famous Just-a-Little Trap eventually resulted in:

📜 47 posts.

📜 12 addenda.

📜 1 Judicial Appendix.

📜 1 Institute of Applied Freshology.

📜 1 formal complaint against a well-known image-editing program.

And one mild nervous breakdown suffered by Aurelius.

Gregorius, who no longer had the strength to argue, wrote in the margin:

ACT 601-A

“Never, under any circumstances, underestimate the words ‘just a little.'”

Because the greatest administrative disasters in history have always begun the same way.

“Just a little…”

🦐 Elegy for the Withered Langoustine and the Sorrowful Clam

By the edge of the sea,

where the waves arrive already tired,

live the Withered Langoustine

and the Sorrowful Clam.

She is sad

because he is withered.

And he is withered

because she is sad.

And so it goes.

Sometimes she says:

—Oh, my dear Langoustine…

And he sighs very softly.

—Don’t worry, Clam…

But the Clam grows even sadder.

And the Langoustine, seeing her so sad,

withers just a little more.

The seagulls,

out of respect,

avoid making comments.

The octopuses look the other way.

And the fish,

out of good manners,

pretend they haven’t seen a thing.

And so the days go by.

By the edge of the sea.

She, a little sad.

He, a little withered.

Chronicler’s Note

Those involved have requested privacy.

As for the remaining details…

it’s probably best not to discuss them.

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