A stuffed polar bear, a pile of sketch books,

A stuffed polar bear, a pile of sketch books, two empty glasses and yesterday's newspaper; that was what they found in the captain's cabin when they finally broke down the door.

There was an eerie silence. The sea rocked the boat from side to side and the contents shifted with it. A hole in the roof revealed the night sky where stars twinkled and a rocket

what is happening, the sky was bright and lovely then the rocket lunches from no where everyone was panicking saying is this www3...

Oh my Gaawd! Chaos! Fries and complicated novella falling from every sky orifice! An orgy of terror and glossy keyboards. Yummy. I love keyboards.

To battle these keyboards takes only a more powerful item! A keyboard guitar! With my mighty weapon held high, I play a sick reverb on the keys as blasts of rainbow musical magic

emerges from the amp. I'm lost in the music and didn't notice the next competitor approaching the stage. He carried a keyboard built into his prosthetic arm! No way! He hit it with

a casual flop of his arm, sending a chord radiating out from his prosthetic arm/keyboard, putting me off finishing my solo. The judges called time and the challenger started to

Show signs of stage tremors, reminiscent of Parkinson's. After he went to the doctor, I could finish my solo. Han Solo did his own solo on rye futuristica. The three of us tied fo

Fi fum but it just didn't have ring of Fe Fi Fum. Besides none of us an Englishman should give us a getup on the ones that is. Tis only fair, Govnir.

If only he could have smelt the blood of a Frenchman. Then we could finally put that French couple, Mr. and Mrs. Pink Pants out of our minds for good. They're so weird, the French.