"Yes, he knew them all," the preacher commented during the obsequies, losing a tear as he glanced down at the falstaffian figure of legendary traniac, Roger Railerman, lying peacefully in the open coffin in his best pair of bib overalls "from hand-pumped handcars to the Orient Express, from Monorails to Maglevs, he knew them all, and the spirits of train lovers everywhere are poor and sere at his passing."
Despite the carping of smellfungus critics who labeled it "commercial kitsch," Melissa's brainchild, "The Peri-urban Excursion," pitched as "a rolling love boat round the crepuscular peri-urban periphery," turned out to be a hit with lovelorn logophiles.
Savoring the lemon twist in his martini, Smellfungus complained bitterly about the sour reception audiences in the small peri-urban theatre gave to "Crepuscule of the Gods," Wagner's operatic masterpiece, Twilight of the Gods ("Götterdämmerung") set to rap music, an artistic hybrid he had optimistically envisioned would produce both a financial cornucopia and critical acclaim.
While vetting applicants for the President's position, members of the Society to Preserve High Moral Principles became concerned after they discovered Christian had been mulcted for selling Amaranth Extract, a nostrum which promised eternal life, and he had previously been known by the nickname, "Pecksniff."
"Did you stop beating your wife before or after you started drinking?" (an improvement on the classic wife-beating question) , the clever prosecutor suggestively asked the teetotaling defendant on cross-examination, shrewdly judging by his phrenological profile that he lacked autochthonous restraint, and would explode on the stand, creating a negative impression with the jury.
Among the most curious autochthonous myths of Ireland is the story of Amergin mac Eccit, a celebrated poet and warrior who led a notoriously profligate life as a rake and libertine, eventually becoming an antihero of sorts, until one ill-starred night he tempted fate by seducing the beautiful goddess Morrigan, thus angering her warlike sister Macha who with a wave of her bronze-tipped spear instantly transformed Amergin into a silk-maned kelpie doomed to ply alone the chilly rivers and loughs of Ireland time without end.
"Yoho!" yelled the possessed boy, frightened out of his autochthonous wits, as the exorcist verily and with the skill of a spiritual prestidigitator snapped his fingers, and produced like Satan's Joker a writhing, vermilion demon from the sulphurous air.
"Even the most jaded among you will shout 'Yoho!' and 'Verily!'" shouted the checker-suited carnival barker, wowing the crowd of credulous hayseeds, "when you witness The Amazing Whoduzit perform wondrous feats of magic and prestidigitation never seen before, right here on your autochthonous soil, making a mighty elephant appear from thin air, and dollar bills disappear from your pockets!"
As his late uncle's barrister, a man of grey and dignified mien, made his entrance into the oak-paneled library to read the will, his robes of scarlet, green, purple and miniver lent a special gravitas to the occasion, and Reginald began to wonder like the rest of the anxious relations whether he had been bequeathed even a scintilla of the considerable fortune.
As he pondered a solution to the word challenge, his tongue pressed against the palatal surface of his front incisors, he began to imagine a sailor, Ishmael, something of a recidivist show off, skylarking in the rigging, but in the end dismissed the thought as a lot of falderal.
As his father Lucian's first born child, through primogeniture Thespian inherited a huge estate which comprised extensive holdings in real estate, along with valuable chattels including an art collection valued at over $100,000,000.00; however, the executor of his father's estate quickly requested the probate court appoint a conservator to manage Thespian's affairs when his obsession with Hamlet led him to don Renaissance attire, "put an antic disposition on," wander about gazing at a skull named "Yorick," and generally behave in a way to subduct the family reputation.
Adventitiously sitting next to the unsettled analysand at Starbucks as he sipped a French Roast, munched on a tart, and perused his own copy of the Times, mtc retorted: "Though my prose may be purple and tumid (under the artificial constraints of QQ,) and I cannot asseverate I have been an analysand, still like novelist Vladimir Nabokov, I know enough about the subject to gleek the pretension 'that all mental woes can be cured by a daily application of old Greek myths to (analysands') private parts.'"
After reading mtc's October 21st post on Quadrivial Quandary, the analysand spilled her Macchiato with Hazlenut Drizzle on her morning Times, and erupted: "How dare you gleek Psychoanalysis with your tumid prose when you can't asseverate you have participated in even one session!"
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