Forsooth, forsooth, attend me peasants, for I have a tale to tell. A tale devoid of rhyme, reason and meaning, but my tale ne’ertheless. This is the tale of the Miser of Mariotti-land (still be it known as the world’s worst amusement park and not safeth for children of all ages) and his* quest for the words that make up a witticism.

Yea and verily did he* venture forth from the Bunker of Love into the land of Nicketh and Nameth. Thereupon did the Prince of Purple Prose set his* dainty foot upon the soil and proclaim “I am the scribe of the gods, worship me and I shall attempt to spell your name correctly.” And, lo, did the many around look down to see from whence the tiny voice came and then set upon their daily chores heedless of the garish gnome.

Undaunted, the Diva of the Dwarves set forth into the town shops to find the words he* needed. The first shop belonged to one Sir John of Stewart. Inside were many people laughing and cavorting. But, upon review, he* realized he* knew not from whence the references came nor what they concerned. This was not the shop for him*.

Then he* came upon a shop owned by Chriseth of the Rock. Again the interior was filled with many happy voices and much laughter. However, upon seeing the shopkeeper he* ran squealing into the square. Clearly any man that dark had not bathed in years. He* was revolted.

Nearing despair, he* saw one lone shop at the end of an alley. Since the shop was silent and only attended by a few dirty urchins he* thought to pass it by. But then he* saw the sign and knew that this was where he* could get what he* needed. Ye Ol’ Shoppe of Schoolyard Taunts - Grades 2 through 4.

And thereupon did he* find the witticism he* could hurl (from a safe distance) at a 300 lb man who could bench press a wagon load of gypsies; Sir Lance-A-Lot! And, for good measure, he* also bought Sir Lance-A-Not!  Yes that dancing bear, Lance Briggs, would be duly chastened by this magnificent manifestation of mirth.

And now, with this mission accomplished, he* set forth to write off, on the Queen’s taxes, the six pence he* had spent and dream of some prime Urlacher booty.

The Endeth ....?

As painful as that was to read for you, I assure you that today’s offering from Chicago’s Cut and Paste Queen is even more so. At least this had a topic, a minor item that he* misses completely today. And, since our Dancing Dervish of Dyssomnia, TomD, has already started a thread, you just have to CLICK HERE TO JOIN THE FUN!