The utter hilarity of seeing Bogart yarely spring to his feet to do the running man and chant “I love pickles” each time Shaggy’s “It Wasn’t Me” played was well worth the cost of both jukebox plays and the $50 I spent on the hypnosis session I bought him, claiming it was for smoking cessation.
“Consume thy libations yarely and fully, comrades!” I prompted to my friends. “The hour is nearly upon us, and approaches with merciless haste! The utter urgency for deals, discounts, and badly translated doll advertisements shall lead us into a new era of hilarity!”
“I’m starving! Bring me knife and a fork, yarely! As opposed to you utter ill-mannered, boorish fools, I eat like a being of taste and distinction,” said Lyle as he attempted to tie a cloth napkin around his huge, furry neck. He couldn’t, nor could he use a knife and fork, and he died trying. Because he was a lion and their paws don’t work that way.