A rapier's wit, as it turned out, was no

A rapier's wit, as it turned out, was no match for an actual rapier. He found himself buckling as his boots swashed blood and utter lack of control onto the planks. A writer had no

business being there because he was a coward and out-of-shape. A deckhand put a sword in his hand and he shrieked and dropped it. It tumbled into the hold where

it skewered a mask-wearing evil dude. He froze, unbelieving, his stomach threatening to hurl, his knees knocking. A blood-thirsty cheer thundered around him. "You got skillz," said

the Lord High Chancellor of Sodomy. The Chancellor's encouragement & the roar of the crowd intoxicated him. He yanked his weapon from the gut of the evil dude & licked its tip. He

then watched as the Martians landed, deplaned, and made Marshmallow sandwiches. The good kind, with the crusts removed and lots of ketchup top and bottom. He asked for one and

they invited him to come over to the micro-fusion roaster, however poor Jimmy became the sandwich when the little green men through him on the roaster and then onto an English

bits of cucumber glistened in the eerie light nad strange voices began to sing.

The Green Goddess cult choir raised their voices in praise of the diced cucumber, singing it's doxology, "Praise Salad upon which all dressings flow!

and chicken caesar is the way to go hail the mighty julienned radishes Green Goddess lettuce leaves delicious - but Cucumber cubes are the star of the show!"