“Hey diddle diddle, the cat and fiddle, the cow jumped over the moon! The little dog laughed to see such sport, and the dish ran away with the spoon! He ran from conviction and fed his addiction as the dish heated the spoon. The spoon begged to but the dish shouted "NO!" "The heroin will be ready soon".”

“They also keep a horned cow as proud as any queen;But music turns her head like ale,And makes her wave her tufted tail and dance upon the green....So the cat on his fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle, a jig that would wake the dead:He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,While the landlord shook the Man of the Moon: 'It's after three' he said.They rolled the Man slowly up the hill and bundled him into the Moon,While his horses galloped up in rear,And the cow came capering like a deer, and a dish ran up with the spoon.Now quicker the fiddle went deedle-dum-diddle; the dog began to roar,The cow and the horses stood on their heads;The guests all bounded from their beds and danced upon the floor.With a ping and a pong the fiddle-strings broke! the cow jumped over the Moon,And the little dog laughed to see such fun,And the Saturday dish went off at a run with the silver Sunday spoon.The round Moon rolled behind the hill, as the Sun raised up her head.She hardly believed her fiery eyes;For though it was day, to her surprise they all went back to bed!”

“Crazy? try ceiling-licking, rabies-frothing, dish-ran-away-with-the-spoon-in-fucking-sane." --Thanatos”

“He could hardly lift his spoon during breakfast, and then he was out on the lake, his spoon soon replaced by a shovel.”

“Then he spooned hot against me, draping his arm over my waist.”

“Dougal lifted his spoon and slit it into his mouth. Immediately, a frozen look came over his face.Sophia tensed.He removed the spoon from his mouth.Sophia gripped her own spoon tighter.A slow red crept up his face, his eyes watering slightly.Ha! Mary's soup was working its magic. Pleased, Sophia pretended to eat some soup.Dougal slapped a hand on the table.The dishes and Sophia jumped. "What's wrong?"He pointed to his bowl with his spoon. "That.""The soup? Why, whatever's wrong with it?""Nothing.That is the best soup I've ever had."Sophia blinked. Surely he hadn't just said-He dipped his spoon back into his bowl and took another large bite. Though his eyes watered and his face turned a deeper red, he continued to eat, murmuring, "Excellent!" every third bite or so.Sophia looked at her own soup, which reeked of garlic and pepper and onion. Mary had added a large amount of salt, as well. But watching MacLean eat with gusto made her question her perceptions.What if Mary's natural ability to cook had overcome her attempts to provide an inedible meal?Sophia dipped her spoon into herbowl and gingerly sniffed the contents, grimacing at the strong odor. Casting a puzzled look at MacLean, who was about finished with his soup, she put the spoon into her mouth.The burning sensation of pepper mingled with the rancid taste of uncooked garlic and what could only have been salted dishwater. She jerked the spoon from her mouth and grabbed her water goblet, pouring it into her mouth to wash down the horrid taste.Gasping, she glared with watery, accusing eyes at MacLean.He seemed not to have noticed anything, too busy scraping the bottom of his bowl, as if afraid some succulent tidbit might have escaped him. Finding nothing more, he placed his spoon on the table and sat back, wiping his mouth with his napkin. "That was the best soup I've ever been served. I believe I'll have more.""More? Are you...are you certain?""I'm positive.”