Come live & be merry and join with me,
To sing the sweet chorus of Ha, Ha, He.
He maintained a strict haggis diet for several years, including those during which he penned Peter Pan.
The sasquatch and the triffid sat in the marsh not only to wile away the hours discussing and eating their favorite vertebrates, but indeed to touch base on certain aspects of the overall invasion plan.
TRIFFID: I’m led to understand you’ll be in charge of the lake division. Pass me a rib.
SASQUATCH: Here you go. Yeah, that’s what they tell me. I figure we’ll meet up on Nevada beach and do whatever from there. You good with that? How ’bout a couple hooves to go with that rib?
TRIFFID: Thanks, but I couldn’t eat another, not even a weasel. The beach is good. We’ll bring the extra poison in sap bags.
SASQUATCH: Right. When we get the signal, we’ll bash at dawn.
TRIFFID: Dawn works for me.
SASQUATCH: Nice view, eh?
TRIFFID: The best.
Loon: Any minute now I’m expecting the arrival of the ghost of a writer called George Eliot to undertake the 3 question interview. Ah, I see shimmering. (Ghost of George Eliot materializes.) Oh, there must be some mistake. I’m waiting for a George Eliot. Who is it that you were, ma’am?
George Eliot’s ghost: George Eliot is my pen name.
Loon (looking up at ceiling): Am I supposed to interview a pen? Your pen’s name is not important. Who are you?
George Eliot’s ghost: Young man, it so happens that I called my favorite pen Etienne, but my own pen name was George Eliot.
Loon (blinking more than necessary): But if your pen’s name is Etienne, what is your name?
George Eliot’s ghost: George Eliot.
Loon (so befuddled that his legs cease functioning and he slides to the floor): But……
George Eliot’s ghost spins like a top until there’s not a wisp left of her.
No sirree, calling Wild Bill Mr. Hiccup was that feller’s terminal mistake.