"So, tell me, pardner, is Prince Charming here too?" enquired Huck, affably enough, but Doubleday scowled, then grunted, sighed, and eventually said: "quite frankly, buddy, Ah've nae idea, no a scoobie, when Ah wis scooped up by thon tornado, a'thing wis total confusion, oh an his name's nae Prince Charmin, ye must be gettin him an me confused wi some ither chiels, the Laird's name's Sir Parlane MacFarlane, an Ah wis christened Dominic, bit ye kin cry me Dom fer short," and Huck mused, "a rhyming name, Sir Parlane MacFarlane, how I used to long for one of those, thought of changing my surname to Merry, Kerry, Terry, or even Confectionery, but then realised the name isn't just about me, it's about the history of the family, and it wouldn't be right and proper to go cutting it off like a broken toe-nail, d'you understand Dom? our family name bestows responsibility on us, a kinda noblesse oblige, even if we ain't noble in this democratic and republican age, nevertheless we represent our forefathers and upholding the honour of the family is more important than indulging a whim, I trust I don't sound overly abrodietical, but if I enjoy, just occasionally, chawin on a shin-bone to get a taste of the marrow, it's not just because I like that taste, ye see? it's cause my old grand-pappy and his old grand-pappy did it too, and it's a habit and a pleasure that's been handed down through the generations, until it came to me and so it's become a family tradition, and those are things that we should cherish, don't ya think? ah, look over there," he said, pointing out of the window, where two figures, one tall, the other short, both rather tubby, silhouetted against the sunlight, came ambling towards the Luncheonette, "it's Yogi and Boo Boo, you're gonna like them, Son, I jest know it!"