i want to eat pancakes! But

I am bound and gagged at the mercy of the evil and sadistic Comte de Ratatouille. He is sitting in front of me eating pancake after pancake while I writhe

. The evil Comte doused me in Grand Marnier, and cackled, "You *will* talk, my little Crêpe Suzette!" He then taunted me with a long matchstick, which he lit right in front of me.

I wriggled against the ropes. "Actions speak louder!" I said as I gouged the Comte with my shoe-blade. But I had miscalculated and he dropped the match, setting me alight. If I

Fold this line with the usual tongue-in cheek humour, the Comte de Langeois will hire me as his jester. He needs to replace Mr. Frog, who recently relocated. His family was thirsty

but cursed with fine taste. Their new pond was regular pond water which they considered plebeian and uncouth. So thirsty they remained. Mr. Frog joined the millions filing for

divorce from their tadpole brides, claiming irreconcilable number of fully formed legs. The tadpoles just wiggled away and refused to pay alimony. Mr. Frog was now penniless and

Blowing goldfish in order to pay the rent. His mother had taken a newt-ral stance on his plight, preferring instead to flirt with her gardener, Mr. Dragonfly. Mr. frog was pissed.

"I should have realized it when that goldfish said his name was Bubbles," he croaked, then hopped off his pad in search of greener (algae) pastures. "My tongue is good for more

than catching flies…if you get my drift!” He winked lewdly. Unfortunately, I got it but wanted no part of it. “My, look at the time!” I said, consulting my bare wrist. “Gotta go!"