You are an aruspice newly arrived upon the Planet Soon, populated by two tribes, the Doofs and the Rufes, who express their aggression through verbal dirty tricks.


"They won't be civilized," —and Thank God for that! muttered the aruspice to himself, "and constantly try to knock any and all passerby off balance," —because that's all that they do, is knock themselves off balance, he realized.


Your job, as the telepathic aruspice, is to complete 88 note cards, already populated with four two-word conjurations apiece, with an additional 5th Spell, to bring peaches, harmonicas, and paralipsis into the wild and woolly chi of the Doofs and the Rufes.


If these people will just stop spinning, he realized, beginning to spin a little himself, —they'll do all right. He straightened himself out just in time, too, as a juvenile Doof approached and said out loud, "You're ugly!" —So foolish! the aruspice thought, as the little kid added, "You're so dumb!" leading the telepath to reflect, —No wonder outliers have had so much difficulty in these lands! He turned to the six-year-old boy and gently said, with a good measure of humor and irony, "—Spare me!"


The quicker we can get the 5th Spell into place, the better off this world will be! the aruspice realized, quickening his pace, and glancing under his own arm pit back upon the child's upper torso, perfunctorily shifting his own attention from his Adam's apple to the center of his chest, and saying out loud, "—We're finished," as he simultaneously shot a bolt of energy up the right side of his spine, directing its outflow, by his conscious attention, into the torso of the little Doof.


The boy ran off. —And so, my child, the visitant reflected upon the retreating figure, who upon this infusion of energy had aggressively thrown down and landed atop a skate board, —let's see if one day you can complete The Fifth Spell.


"—It's mystical," the aruspice said aloud, to no one in particular, spinning a little, then stopping himself.