THE GIRL ON THE RED VELVET SWING KWIZ ANSWER
Evelyn Nesbit was very pretty indeed.
Evelyn Nesbit was very pretty indeed.
The show is over. You begin to peel off your clown suit. Others pass by, congratulating you on your performance. You feel a surge of well being. Here you are where you want to be doing what you want to do. You linger before the mirror. Time stretches out in pleasant reverie. Silence glides in and settles. You are alone in the tent. Now suitably garbed in street clothes, you step outside. You notice the door to the box office is ajar. You walk over, shove it open. There she is. You die.
the subatomic particle
according to this article
foundered in a bowl of new mown hay
how they ever knew
is a puzzle, it is true
and will bother me all throughout the day
Loon: Today the Lords of the 4th Dimension have seen fit to deliver to us for the 3 question interview the ghost of Sir William Gilbert. I am led to believe Sir William was active in Victorian England. Sir William, did you have anything to do with investigating the Jack the Ripper murders?
Ghost of W. S. Gilbert: If I were a lowly pigeon, I’d answer not a smidgen. But as I’m a high born hawk, I ignore such piffling talk.
Loon: Oh. I see. Was there really punting on the Thames? I didn’t think football was invented yet.
Ghost of W. S. Gilbert: Surely you must jest. Are you putting me to a test?
Loon: I … No. Did you like fish and chips?
Ghost of W. S. Gilbert: Though I’m far from being skinny, I do believe you’re a ninny. (dances off through the ceiling)
Loon: So there you have Sir William Gilbert, a famous person from Victorian England. (leaves room awkwardly)
Auntie accompanied me to Mameha’s apartment, where I expressed my gratitude to Mameha and pledged to honor and respect her.
An example of the pitch perfect narrative voice in Golden’s Memoirs of a Geisha.
Eric’s nap boulder was also used as a picnic table.
The lifeless chipmunk sat there, lifeless.
A jaunty jay hopped by, paused, said, ‘What’s your story, captain? Usually you’re zooming around here like so much lightning.’
The chipmunk barely sighed, muttered, ‘What’s the use?’
‘I know what you need,’ said the jay. ‘HAWK!’
The chipmunk flashed across the clearing and dove down a tunnel.
The jay chortled and went off looking for someone else to pester.
Moral: For arousal from torpor, a jaunty jay is just the ticket.