How Can My Ankles And Arms Be

Gonzo Narrows His Eyes. 'how Often Do You Clean That Thing?' 'every Night,' The Waitress Answers. Her Smile Is Strained. 'that's It? Do You Know How Long It Takes For Listeria To Grow Under Those Hot Lamps, Even With Ice?' Here We Go. 'it Can Happen In Just Five Hours. Five Hours And You've Got The Salad Bar Of Death!' The Waitress Looks Confused. 'from Listerine?

Oh, I've A Love, A True, True Love, Who Waits Upon Yon Shore... And If My Love Won't Be My Love, Then I Will Live No More.

Perhaps This Is How Girls Fall -- Not In Some Crime Of Enchantment At The Hands Of A Wicked Ne'er-do-well, A Grand Before And After In Which They Are Innocent Victims Who Have No Say In The Matter. Perhaps They Simply Are Kissed And Want To Kiss Back. Perhaps They Even Kiss First. And Why Should They Not?

We All Walk In A Land Of Dreams. For What Are We But Atoms And Hope, A Handful Of Stardust And Sinew? We Are Weary Travelers Trying To Find Our Way Home On A Road That Never Ends. Am I A Part Of Your Dream? Or Are You But A Part Of Mine?

Please Do Not Strain Yourself, Miss Doyle. I Won't Have My Girls Going Cross-eyed In The Name Of Art.