Three absurdities.

The first: hot

Days and weeks had congealed into a sticky, shapeless mass of years that mouldered in the malarial swelter of this tropical backwater. But wading through the feathery shavings of a lifetime's epic struggle Henry held at last a pencil sharpened to the perfect point, and was now prepared to begin his memoirs.

The second: cold

Staring straight up into the drizzle that fell from the ceiling like a fine cool rain, and preparing to sneeze yet again, Henry pondered the terrible irony of an accident that would leave him immobilized in a full-body cast while suffering this annoying head cold.

The third: dry

Faced with the seemingly insoluble choice of torturing to death an innocent child with the ghastly implements of the inquisition or watching helplessly as a hundred more were burnt at the stake, Henry, in a fit of despair, snapped his pencil in two and muttering, "I hate moral issues, I hate moral issues," transferred to the faculty of law.

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