Words, Words, Words, A Million Million Words

. . . You Seem Upset, Charlie. Is Something Wrong? Charlie: No, No, I’m Okay, I Just Had To Take Directions From A Mute Beaver In A Fez To Get Here, It’s Unsettling.

Unless You Can Change The Past, You’re Wasting The Present On This Guilt

I'm Thinking Of Being A Professional Mourner. How Hard Can It Be? Tear At Your Hair, Sing A Dirge Or Two, Take The Rest Of The Week Off.

Like Looking Down On A Lubricious Chess Set, Isn't It? The King Moves In Tiny Steps, With No Direction, Like A Drunkard Trying To Avoid The Archer's Bolt. The Others Work Their Strategies And Wait For The Old Man To Fall. He Has No Power, Yet All Power Moves In His Orbit And To His Mad Whim. Do You Know There's No Fool Piece On The Chessboard, Kent?" "methinks The Fool Is The Player, The Mind Above The Moves.

Charlie Asher: Mrs. Ling, Is That Duck Wearing Trousers? Mrs. Ling: Could Be . . . . You Hear Of Paper-wrap Chicken? This Duck In Pants.