"Flap, my Larrybird!"

(534.7-536.27)  "Calm has entered," begins HCE in today's reading, indicating that the interruptions at the end of yesterday's passage have ceased (at least momentarily).  He says that "there is luttrelly not one teaspoonspill of evidence at bottomlie to my babad, as you shall see."  Not only is he certain of his innocence, but he has also retained a law firm (which has a reach over all four corners of the globe), "Misrs Norris, Southby, Yates and Weston, Inc," to warn against publication of libel regarding HCE.

The root of HCE's problems is none other than the "caca cad."  "Strangler of soffiacated green parrots!" HCE calls him.  "I protest it that he is, by my wipehalf."  Sherlock is looking for the Cad, of whom HCE says, "Let me never see his waddphez again!"  Before all this happened, HCE was in a lofty position and set to present the keys to the city to "Majuscules, His Magnus Maggerstick."  But now, because of this "[f]irst liar in Londsend," HCE is reduced to "[l]owest basemeant in hystry!"  

The four young chaps chime in briefly again (with one thinking that HCE's voice is that of "Whitehed," which, McHugh notes, is an alias of Finn MacCool).  HCE's voice resumes, as "Old Whitehowth," who has "lived true thousand hells."  Here, HCE seems to merge with Oscar Wilde ("poor O.W. in this profundust snobbing").  "I askt you, dear lady, to judge on my tree by our fruits," the voice says.  "I gave you two smells, three eats.  My freeandies, my celeberrimates:  my happy bossoms, my allfalling fruits of my boom.  Pity poor Haveth Childers Everywhere with Mudder!"  In the next paragraph, the voice identifies O.W./Haveth Childers Everywhere as "Communicator, a former colonel."  Another "disincarnated spirit," Sebastion, also seeks to "fernspreak shortly with messuages from my deadported," but HCE suggests that they "make an appunkment for a future date" to hear from him.  Most of the remainder of the passage seems dedicated to reporting on the state of Wilde/HCE in the afterlife.  He enjoys smoking and having "his glad stein of our zober beerbest in Oscarshal's winetavern," and HCE adds, "The boyce voyce is still flautish and his mounth still wears that soldier's scarlet though the flaxfloyeds are peppered with salsedine."  HCE may tell his/Wilde's "second storey" one day, but for now, he says, it "looks like someone other bearing my burdens," something which he can't allow.