So, how do we tell whether she is made of wood? I-- what? Aaaagh! What? No, it floats! It floats!
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Oh, let's be nice to him. That's what it's all about. If only people would hear of-- One thing I can't stand, it's people groveling. Please! The Lady of the Lake, her arm clad in the purest shimmering samite, held aloft Excalibur from the bosom of the water signifying by Divine Providence that I, Arthur, was to carry Excalibur. Come on, then. When danger reared its ugly head, he bravely turned his tail and fled. You're using coconuts! Ah, now we see the violence inherent in the system. Oh, don't grovel!
You fight with the strength of many men, Sir Knight. You make me sad. So be it. Come, Patsy. I don't want to go on the cart! Well, don't. It's like those miserable Psalms-- they're so depressing.
Quiet! Quiet! Quiet! Quiet! If... she... weighs... the same as a duck,... she's made of wood. Halt! Who goes there? Oh, don't grovel! Help! Help! I'm being repressed! Pull the other one! Well, this is a temperate zone. What happens now? And this isn't my nose. It's a false one. Victory is mine!
And his nostrils raped and his bottom burned off...