In addition to the puttees, the wild-eyed stranger darting from an alley also gave Sir Arthur three brass buttons and a rasher of bacon.
The puttees Sir Arthur wears in this photo were given to him by:
a. a leper.
b. the superintendent of a madhouse Sir Arthur once visited in disguise for quite a lengthy stay.
c. Boris Karloff’s grandmother.
d. a wild-eyed stranger who darted from an alley and said, ‘Here, Guv, have a care. Them’s magic.’
Dorothy and the Scarecrow discover a long row of giant Oz books.
solipsism
embedded in perfume
self-negating ombudsmen
need not apply
the pen of your aunt
is not
i repeat
not
on the table
Loon: Today for the 3 question interview we welcome the ghost of the famous Roman emperor, Nero. Your Royal Elevatedness, welcome. Do you speak American?
Nero’s ghost: Si, amigo.
Loon: Uh, I mean American like in Omaha. Do you speak that?
Nero’s ghost: But of course. I speak everything. I’m a genius.
Loon: What is that thing you’ve got, some kind of harp?
Nero’s ghost: It’s a lyre. And I hate my sandals. And you. I hate you. I’m going fishing. (disappears)
Loon: But … (Stands confused. Wrings hands like Zasu Pitts.)
Addison Nindernok fell in the Lomond Loch.
He sank like a stone to the bottom.
With a thrash and a flail he grabbed Nessie’s tail
and stayed as a guest until autumn.
Trying not to display the significant amount of trepidation she felt, Shoemaker entered the bait shop. A swift glance found the proprietor seated behind a neatly cluttered counter. Snagged in frozen avalanche down the face of his many pocketed canvas vest were legions of feathered barbs.
‘Moving down or up or not is what the time values,’ he said evenly, unveiling both of his teeth and narrowing his gaze.
‘Wednesday or Sunday, if the weather continues off and on grainy,’ replied Shoemaker in a voice she barely recognized as her own, so shaken to the core was she about the possible dreadful unknown. It was now or never. If the balloon salesman with the piercing black eyes had been truthful, the next few seconds would confirm her destiny – life, death, or a fate even more horrible in between.
The proprietor’s smile became more hideous, something Shoemaker hadn’t thought possible. The floor opened beneath her feet, and mouth opened wide in silent scream, she slid down a ramp and came to an abrupt landing on an immense mound of uncooked rice. The rice was on a barge. The barge moved out to the river and sailed away.
There was no moon that night.
The crowd below watched in awe as the ghostly rose sailed silently by.
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Doc's Lunacy
5 of 5 stars to The Great Train Robbery by Michael Crichton goodreads.com/review/show/55…
