That long, transparent thing with its metamorphic container manages to astonish, every time, again. A squeeze of the trigger producing a bond. The cartridge, unwilling, is forced toward an unknown fate. Most often, it dances its drunken sway, spills out, loses form, builds slowly, then trickles and flows beyond control. Within minutes, it steams with gleaming vapors, slides from here to there and back again, grips everything and releases nothing. Or else, lets go all at once,