Though many of the first-graders would have preferred the planetarium, Mrs. Shamenko planned a field trip to the local hog farm; as she droned on about the trials and tribulations of both the farmers and the hogs, Arthur stared up into the cupola, imagining that it was the stomach of a giant monster, who had just eaten them all and Mrs. Shamenko’s wiredrawn speech was the ceremonious sermon that would break them on through to the other side. – Gladys Potter
As Wrinkles McGee boarded the time-travel machine he was forced to listen to a long do’s and dont’s list from a large-eyed hairless space alien – the only being in the year 2152 that knew how to pilot the complex contraption. The next thing Wrinkles knew, he was staring down from a grand Ancient Greek cupola as Plato and Socrates shot bows and arrows into his huge-headed pilot and he knew that somewhere in that wiredrawn list of instructions he had missed something very, very important.
“We must look like such disproportionate couple, walking down the street together,” I mused aloud to OMR as we strolled through Park Slope, my arm gripping his with a vice-like severity. “With your wiredrawn build and my ninnies the size of a Roman cupola, we certainly are odd.”