"Mellow fellows, we have been expelled from Unicommand like bitter saliva. We have ourselves failed to eat Mad Luigi, and the undevoured Quand 12 is observing us for no banquet fee on the Kinevue."
His voice wavered. "Terra was like home to us, all that chocolate and marshmallow, and making crackers and drinking grapelijk juice and sneaking in a little Boviliq from time to time. Remembering those days is like licking little children, all soft and pink and chewy."
Tears began to dribble from several quintets of eyes, and the attendant MechoLapDogs slurbled them up.
"We are surrounded on at least one astral plane, and three armies of fully-charged, militant Femiclones are being stimulated and transferred here from Preservation Mode. I am afraid -- as I realize we are all afraid -- of their leader, Martin Luther Gloria Steinem Robert Welch Clone III. Please, mellow fellows, a suggestion."
Grating mumbles filled the humorous atmosphere, until a sense of unanimity could be felt.
Approving nods were seen all about the pod, and as dishes of Schlock Puree were served, friendly wartime banter continued.
"Smash and pillage, tripe and pillows!"
"Whatís a splash? Whoís a tripe?"
"More squashes! More gripes!"
"Iíve got some squeaks, too. And some stripes, blue."
"Sure this puree has peaked, so what? The purée is ripe, hot!"
"Youíre right, itís not so weak. Itís not so hot."
"Meat? Clots? Weíve had enough for today."
And so on. But the High Wadk commanded inattention once again.
"A solution, mellows?"
Wrinkled brow fell upon wrinkled brow until the room was amass with rubbery crevasses. Finally, Smoothness arose to speak.
"I believe," offered Smoothness, post-dribbling puree, "that Mad Luigi should be married to Quand 12 to achieve an historic accommodation that would be recorded in all the Intragalactic Historic Frames. Why, we could achieve the fame of a Henry Kisinger or a James Earl Ray or an Arthur Bremer or even " praise the Wadkking " a Charles Whitman!"
Hushed chuckles filled the Wadk High Command Aura Chamber that instant as the historic implications of Smoothnessís unparallel-timed suggestion began to penetrate the kar-refrontal beans of the Wadk brains.
"A vote? A vote?" called the Old High Wadk from his astrocommode.
All replied in unison, "A vote! A vote!" and another momentous decision was recorded in the collective memory of the System of Deneb: The Marriage Of Mad Luigi And Quand 12.
But it still remained for the Wadks to telekine to the Likable Triple Cities of Mokus 5, and by Tuesday, no less.
Meanwhile, back on Saturn....