The poet ceased his egress from conversation on seeing his erstwhile companion's downcast expression.
"Do not be despondent!" he cried, and grasping her by the arm he led her to a cask, where one hobbit flapped ineffectively on the ground, like a large beached flounder. Pouring a glass for the lady and himself, he nodded to the nearby Wizard, who was rummaging in his bag, and stood on the table.
Feeling rather heady, he exclaimed, "Welcome to the party! It is not my party, but rather someone else's!" With that he hauled his unwilling companion upon the table-top and slipped away, promulgating chants of 'speech, speech' as he made his way through the crowd.
[ September 23, 2002: Message edited by: Rimbaud ]
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And all the rest is literature
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