“The rat squealed as he bit into it, squirming wildly in his hands, frantic to escape.”

“I believe that for his escape he took advantage of the migration of a flock of wild birds.”

“She came and then he was coming with her, his c#ck pumping inside her, his rhythm wild and frantic. His hands held her, gripped her. His moans became something else, something primitive and primal. The sound of utter release and absolute pleasure. The very sounds falling from her lips in shallow, moaning cries of surrender.”

“I did what any good rat would do. I bit down on the guard's hand until I tasted blood.”

“His words make me squirm. He wouldn’t dare! He and his twitchy palm.”

“ladies & gentlemen," the Professor began, "the Other Professor is so kind as to recite a Poem. The title of it is 'The Pig-Tale.' He never recited it before!" (General cheering among the guests.) "He will never recite it again!" (Frantic excitement, & wild cheering all down the hall, the Professor himself mounting the table in hot haste, to lead the cheering, & waving his spectacles in one hand & a spoon in the other.)”