 | | 08-07-2008, 08:19 AM |
|
#14 |
| Master Fan
Joined: Sep 2007
Posts: 19,383
| Quote:
Mom: "Each morning before I feed I go out into the hills where the ground is thorny and parched, beat my breast and curse the loins that gave birth to such a cretinous boy-child!"
Lorne spreading his hands: "My mother."
Mom: "Your father was right. We ate the wrong son."
Lorne: "Well, enough of this sentimental reminiscing. Just a couple of quick questions, then I'll skeddadle. You remember back around five years ago when I first disappeared - did you notice anything - odd?"
Mom: "We noticed feasting and celebrations. Your brother Numfar did the dance of joy for three moons. Numfar! Do the dance of joy."
| 
Poor Lorne!  |
| |