“Nevermore shall I scavenge a French soiree

Where they serve too much galantine and pâté—

For texture contrasts yield treats tastily new;

Hence, this instead bread just needs some Brie fondue.” ; )

The Neigh Weigh: In a ‘fair’ horse race, bettors who luck the most on the impost merit a roll in the dough whilst, afterwards, ride-eyed equines feast on the last least of hay.

The Nay Way: In a human-race affair, lessors, as the house, buck any toast by a hopeful host—deemed a lesser dreaming of life aglow—without a way to pay. ; )

For last eve’s fine dine, she was down for digesting fills of daffodils, but, now, lackadaisical lemur is finding that cathemeral cravings are up for lea’s daisies regarding morning’s munch. ; )

Dipper’s favourite fish was, indeed, quite delish,

But bitter bit in caudal fin set tum aspin,

So, sans honey, she took coast’s closest scammony

To quell her angst and ache before return to lake,

Where nauseous nosh was soon forgot in bubble wash—

A cathartic mixer preffed to med elixir. ; )

“Well, flick my Bic! It’s a dik-dik!” flamed the being of buffoonery from the local bloomery.

“What interesting iron*y—,” mused the mini-lope, “that gas and hot air left their clay bed for this dimwit’s head.”

“Perhaps, someday,” hoped gazing Elle, “dumb-dumbs will keep silent regarding that which is overtly clear and I can be left to focus my ire not on a boor away from his ore, but on the all too many, I fear, who still think I’m a deer.” ; )