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A Tale of the 'Evans, v. 2, issue 2, Spring 1944
Page 8
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page 8. flocks for you, Father Dear". So she departed to the meadows, and her pappy took...medicine... to cure himself. Came evening, and no daughter bringing in the flock from the meadows. Rising from his bed of pain, the father went into the readers seeking his beloved daughter. But she was not to be found, although both he and all his sympathetic neighbors hunted high and low for many and many a weary day. Nor was anything ever again heard of her, and to this day her disappearance remains the greatest mystery of that simple village. For they were but ignorant and untutored sheepherders, and couldn't fathom the disappearance of little Ivy, the sheepherder's daughter. For they didn't know that "liddlo lamzydivoo". But we do, don't we? IT'S INFLATION, THAT'S WHAT IT IS! The evening following the departure of the last guest from tho most recent Slan-Shackon, everyone in the joint was weary and all fagged out. We were all honest enough to admit that we had to make payment to the Piper for the pleasures over the week-end, but were bitterly complaining that the price was much too high. That's why I used the above heading. We plan a Union to combat such inflationary prices for such simple pleasures. Or are we just nuts for sitting up until five in the morning playing poker? And then starting in again after five or six hours sleep, and playing all night once more. I went to bed about eleven on Sunday night, and when I had to get up at six the next morning, in order to go to work, there at the table, so sleepy they could hardly distinguish their cards, and had to take a lot of time to figure out what they had, still sat Al and Ollie and F?qnkio Robinson. They didn't quit until eight, I am told. Boy, was their piping bill staggering! Who was it said, "Oh what mortals those fools be!"? A POLYSYLLABUS From the kingdom of mnemonics To the realm of super-sonics There is nothing in scientifictive lore I do not ken; For othoric transportation, And for psychic transmigration I confess that I possess a never satiated yon. Philosophic derivations; Mathematical equations- All are grist my osoteric soul grinds with a fervid zest; They bring thoughts into zymosis To produce goo-hypnosis Which shall fulminate in lothargios to lull my brain to rost. - E. Everett (do I dare sign it?) Evans.
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page 8. flocks for you, Father Dear". So she departed to the meadows, and her pappy took...medicine... to cure himself. Came evening, and no daughter bringing in the flock from the meadows. Rising from his bed of pain, the father went into the readers seeking his beloved daughter. But she was not to be found, although both he and all his sympathetic neighbors hunted high and low for many and many a weary day. Nor was anything ever again heard of her, and to this day her disappearance remains the greatest mystery of that simple village. For they were but ignorant and untutored sheepherders, and couldn't fathom the disappearance of little Ivy, the sheepherder's daughter. For they didn't know that "liddlo lamzydivoo". But we do, don't we? IT'S INFLATION, THAT'S WHAT IT IS! The evening following the departure of the last guest from tho most recent Slan-Shackon, everyone in the joint was weary and all fagged out. We were all honest enough to admit that we had to make payment to the Piper for the pleasures over the week-end, but were bitterly complaining that the price was much too high. That's why I used the above heading. We plan a Union to combat such inflationary prices for such simple pleasures. Or are we just nuts for sitting up until five in the morning playing poker? And then starting in again after five or six hours sleep, and playing all night once more. I went to bed about eleven on Sunday night, and when I had to get up at six the next morning, in order to go to work, there at the table, so sleepy they could hardly distinguish their cards, and had to take a lot of time to figure out what they had, still sat Al and Ollie and F?qnkio Robinson. They didn't quit until eight, I am told. Boy, was their piping bill staggering! Who was it said, "Oh what mortals those fools be!"? A POLYSYLLABUS From the kingdom of mnemonics To the realm of super-sonics There is nothing in scientifictive lore I do not ken; For othoric transportation, And for psychic transmigration I confess that I possess a never satiated yon. Philosophic derivations; Mathematical equations- All are grist my osoteric soul grinds with a fervid zest; They bring thoughts into zymosis To produce goo-hypnosis Which shall fulminate in lothargios to lull my brain to rost. - E. Everett (do I dare sign it?) Evans.
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