The "Turbo GT" version of THE COMPLETE ACCOMPLICE was allegedly written in order to show J.R.R. Tolkein "what a barn looks like on the inside." Exploding dirigibles immediately leap to mind. Then: electrolytes, pantry-goers, and the villainy of toads. This collection of four parthenogenetic novellas proves that mongrels do in fact possess the capacity to evolve beaks by means of their own dripping volition. Adages fester like the creeds of Old Men. There are no "discursive furies" swimming beneath the tarmac, and when technologiades destabilize and usurp the blood of alchemists, shiny guyparts ensue. As Lofton Gitt contends, "Sleepbugs fall from the eyesockets like paperweights onto a wounded rubbertop. The 4th Wall lingers in obscurity. Cracks spread further across the plaster with each seismic shift. Plaster Inspectors scrutinize the cracks, adjusting and readjusting their instruments, and deliver ominous verdicts." All else reifies compulsory heterosexuality. Aylett has suggested that beards ought to listen to the razors that shave them. I can't disagree. Not only in light of certain overweening, intermingling, transmutative factors, but because social questions have a right to don flesh, too.