Some time ago, Peter found in his garden some turtles, half-buried in the delicate topsoil. They had long, heavy forlimbs, twisted backs, no stomachs, and fifteen tails. Whey they moved, their bodies squealed like overused machinery, and Peter could swear he heared them begging for milk or some false cognate. Using an eyedropper and the thread from his spinning top, Peter carefully opened their sharp beaks and dripped eight drops of milk into each of their eager mouths. Apparently satisfied, the turtles began to speak to him in unison, revealing fantastic secrets hitherto unimagined.
What happened next is, ultimately, unimportant.