"This is the Furse Yale game I've been to since before the war," Hu Flung muttered drunkenly, Hollingshead in his hands, "and I was doing what came Nadernhy. Barzilaus-kiss my girl gave me has me so I don't know whether I'm Cummings or Cowen."
"I've got Drvaric thing for you," said his sidekick, pouring another drink. "Frank-ly, I think you're making a Montano-f a molehill."
"Elis, dammit," replied the Sage, "but Levi things to me. It won't take a Kirk of fate to make me Root or Booe this afternoon."
"Odell with it," said his friend, "all's well that Elwell if yiu tell me what the Scovil be."
"Don't Lynch me if I'm wrong," Hu Flung declared, but it shouldn't be a bum Setear to say
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