Where you been, Mac? I missed you! Dude—I mean, man, she corrects hastily, with a gamine grin, before I can make good on a threat I made in what feels like another lifetime that I would call her by her full name if she ever duded me again. […] Oh, yes, she's upset. She just unapologetically duded me.

I don't never buy no cheese, miss; I can't forspare the money for it.

Some twenty years ago—'tis true, / Isaacs, a poor pedestrian Jew, / By wishful inclination prest, / A ribspare stole, already drest; […]

With tears, with blushes, sighs and clasped hands, / With innocent upreared arms to heaven, […]