"There's not an Odell room in this Feinberg," moaned the travel-weary sage of the age. "And all I know is that the Bowl is in a Harlow just a Stone's throw over that Hill."
"Prchlik," sneezed his companion. "Gorckynski," said the sage. "Conway Setear a while and figure this thing out? It's not the Furse time we've rushed into the Gannon's mouth."
"It will Nadheray be a slaughter, but Frank-ly a Moravec-tive attack I've never seen," quoth Huey. "Every time Moffie-t hurt, it Raines. I Glynn be wrong today the, I hope."
"The Yalies can Booe all they want, but my Jackson the Crimson as I predict:
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