Come into the parlour said the spider to the fly be there devoured, the puzzle lies their in A consummate dance of death frailty and the stab of venomous jaws And then no more

Rain Fell In The Shopping Mall!; “code red, code red,” the robots screeching wail. On the Meta-phone, the sharp-spectacled Vivivication DemonictoR hissed snakishly:

“No.” I shook my head defiantly. I refused to believe it. No, I didn’t at all believe it. Simple as that.

I almost died by my own hand. By the bottle of shame and fear I held tightly, Clutched between shaky fingers, As I knotted a rope of words unsaid, Looped it ‘round my bare neck,

I'm the sheriff and my name is Rosco P. Coltrane. People in Hazzard know that the P is for pea-brain. I work for Commissioner Jefferson Davis Hogg. He hates the Dukes and he also hates my dog.