One man’s pet name for his thoughts was “yeah, yeah.”
A couple of thugs were plotting to do away with a certain mystic, and one of them said, “What should we do? — kill him?” And another of the nefarious countered, “Naw, just make him take a name.” And all of ’em had a good, hearty, and really aggressive laugh at that one.
(Awakening, unexpectedly, in the middle of the night, a chap suddenly sat up in bed and exclaimed, “Mein Got! — I’m full of thugs!”)
Shortly after the carnival had opened for the day, one of the showmen cupped his hands and cried out, “I want to invite any in attendance here today who feel they have any interest whatsoever in my personal life and affairs to feel free to step into my tent over here and take a royal bite of my ass!”
(Without any warning, one man suddenly awoke one night, and leapt from the bed screaming, “Mama mia! — my insides are a flaming midway!”)
‘Tis alleged that on one world they think of the mystical as being kind, caring, and all-around charitable.
‘Tis further alleged that this world is a sham, shadow version of their real one.
Upon close examination of himself, one man concluded, “Yes, I smell exactly like myself…in fact, too much so.”