Inkwell: Authors and Artists

    

tah. And as we all know, a Jarlseberg cheetah is an extremely rare animal
that commands a pretty penny on the bl-
  

    
ame Gans circuit, the be-
  

    
ginning of a long stretch of unpleasant luck that ends when you ad-
  

    
dress the judge by her proper title, your ho-
  

    
ney is staining my gown now, dude! Please g-
  

    
aze directly into the abyss you see before you, sang Ga-
  

    
nasha to his beautiful many armed br-
  

    
ittle, begin by pouring the sugar into the pan and st-
  

    
ay the hell away from me! Aggggghhhhh! You did this to me you f-
  

    
eather-tickler sot(t).  Rearrange the phrases in that s-
  

    
ensational, love-nesty backseat of yours.  I especially like the ch-
  

    
eetah of Jarlsberg. The scent just improves with tim-
  

    
ber from the forests of the Swiss Al-
  

    
Anon retreat, where they have some particularly fine meadows with ex-
  

    
its straight to the Underworld. To find them, you have to kn-
  

    

ee a gnome, who'll scream out the directions while sinking to the ground,
clutching his groin.

Once you get to the meadows, however, you'll find the fl-
  

    
an is rather spicy and tasty, redolent of cinnamon and nut-
  

    
ritious junk mail, such as a snail might nibble having climbed in the
mailbox so e-
  

    
ntranced by the scented perfume packets whose scent wafts so
offensively to our sensitive noses but attracts those l-
  

    
ittle beasties who, truth be told, are all reincarnated gnomes in an-
  

    
other place and time, seeking, always seeking, to quench theit insa-
  

    
torial desplenditude, replete with gor-
  

    
gonzola-on-rye sandwiches and fifty different varieties of exotic
tropical fish odor, served with large draughts of ale and Jack Dan-
  

    
skin-wearer, who waits tables weekends. Weekdays, he's the popular ho-
  

    
d carrying gnome on Brickwork Today, the offbeat cable comedy d-