4th March, 1989
Once upon a long time ago in a canoe, a cat looked up at the sky and said ``Eureka! The answer lies in the polish!''. Grabbing a can of Mr Sheen, he hastily leapt up the tower, brandishing his throbbing weapon at the innocent passers by until he, totally exhausted, decided to remove all semblance of sanity and board the Millenium Warthog after all.
On the planet of Agrophilia below, Letitia pointed her double grunge blaster cum rip-it-right-up grease gun. The bearings slickly oiled, she put on her skates and headed off towards her erstwhile friend Dennis. ``Have you had the operation yet?'' she panted as she ripped the thin silk from her lebanese cat called Arthur. Slowly she turned toward Dennis and said ``Drop dead!''. Dennis replied ``That's not very nice. Can't you think of a better name for a nice plate of spaghetti?''. Dennis dropped dead, falling into a casket lined with elderberries and lace, and was sent off to Mars or some other unlikely and seemingly formidable planet.
Letitia wept bitterly as she sobbed on Anja's shoulder. ``Don't be upset'', said Anja, ``Dennis wasn't good enough for you.'' Letitia turned to Anja and said in a bitter tone ``Why can't Dennis get his own space ship. He always borrows the Millenium Warthog, just when I've got an appointment at Alpha Cygnus. Unfortunately I have an appointment at the dentist's today, so I think I'll just drop dead.''. And she did.