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Spruce mustard and bouillabaisse

Trundled August 28, 2005.

So what happened, you ask? Did I die, you ask? Did I hit the sea with a splat, or a gurgle, you ask?

I ask, do you ask?

I answer: To hell with your questions, man! Or… woman! (Do you have nice feet? Toes?) Get me some Englebee Troobles! Some real ones, not these filibusterous frauds shaped like horse dung! And I’d really enjoy some caviar with spruce mustard and burned chocolate, too, and a spot of mayonnaise and Lysander sauce with golden bouillabaisse and bum pudding.

Poor Mr. Wilson.