Yon be da pickleman rocking her boat dry. Got out and told him.
Prongies? May ketch the prongies?
Will. Have ketched the prongies.
Doc. Hey Doc. I need help done gone ketched da prongies.
Why? That’s why I’m here. Ask why I to you not backwards my way Doc. I think I need a new you.
What? Nut-cake. Here. Eat on my nutcake.
Cause dose udder.
Why does udder?
Cause you da pickle-man. Pickle-man scritchie-scratchie his ones. What I told ya knackie. His ones. Those. So what you can’t see dem, dey’re dare. Yuppie noodles by gosh yuk, they dere.
Why? I should not know.
Why the sun, eh? Why the moon? Eh? Why? The stars eh? And so forth. And on. Downhill it all rolls. All quick and slick. This way and that.
She rocked her boat all up got out and told him. What she tell him? Pickygrin? She tell him dis. Litbubby. She told him dat. Prongies? She told him which way dat. Soul. Souls. No soul and no souls. Cause dose udder. My brain. What I told ya big knackie. Crown me. All quick and slick. Crown me right now. The stars eh? Not already crowned me, no. Pickygrin? Not later crown me promise me, no. Pickle-man scritchie-scratchie his onesies his twosies and—his threesies anon. Why them? You been told. Cause dose udder. And why dat so so? Ha. Cause you da pickle-man.
Pickle-man scritchie-scratchie his ones?
Cause you da pickle-man.