“Look, I’m sorry I called your Uncle Henry a bleeding-heart pinko communist over dinner. And I didn’t mean to make that face when I took that first bite of your mother’s pumpkin pie, and I sure she didn’t even see it anyway. All I’m asking for is a chance to come back in and discuss this calmly like rational adults. Preferably in the next fifteen seconds.”
“I must say, you’re being an awfully good sport about this whole thing. When you first saw that I had chewed your priceless collection of limited first edition mint 1973 UltraSuperZoids action figures, I thought you were going to blow a gasket, but instead you give me this comfortable box and lots of these fun toys to play with! I really couldn’t ask for a kinder, more understanding human to… what are you doing with that tape?”
With grace and precision, the mountain goat boldly leaps from rock to rock on the treacherous cliff face. He laughs at Death as his cloven hooves find their mark among the tiny outcroppings, as if he was part of the very rock itself. One slip could send him plunging into the icy waters of Lake Pupucaca, yet he feels no fear, his impeccable senses plotting every step of his daring journey… to the top… of the…
The robed acolytes held aloft their torches, lighting the path to the great stone staircase. At its peak sat the Ancient One in its throne, its gruesome jaws eager for tribute. “Oh Great and Benevolent Cottontail,” intoned the Grand High McGregor, his arms outstretched to the exalted beast, “feast well upon our humble offering, that it may nourish and give thee strength.” And indeed the terrible creature was pleased, for across its face formed a toothsome leering grin. Quickly, the acolytes averted their eyes and fled the chamber, for what was about to transpire was not meant for mortal eyes to witness.