was that slice of apple pie all you wanted?
i want everybody to wish me the best on my birthday.
contrary to your calculations, everybody is a lot of people.
i demand that you stop demeaning me with your deliberate demeanor.
eustace, is appolonius acting out extemporaneously again?
i fear he is, miss felicia.
grab him by the ears and plant him in the garden.
but i just planted howard in the garden.
i don’t want excuses.
just do it, right?
you are developing a keen sense of proper response.
come along, appolonius, you lucky boy.
you have no mandate from heaven to plant me in the garden.
i don’t need no stinking mandate from heaven or anybody else, come along.
heaven will hurl opprobrium at you on my behalf.
do you want me to call pete?
last night i dreamed the garden was filled with quiet ghosts.
that’s right, come along. you can have a right friendly quiet conversation with these ruminative spirits.
life is sad , don’t you think?
i am not paid to think.
or to understand, am i right?
i am not so vain as to try to understand anything.
in my dream, a werewolf suddenly appeared, sending the ghosts on their way.
it sounds a most excellently plotted dream.
do you think so? i, myself, did not think so at the time.
you never know about a dream until it is over.
is all life a dream?
i believe you have broached that subject before. ah, here we are, in the garden.
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