“Well, that's not true. I need to work for a living.”“No, that's not true. You think you need to work like this because that's what you've been told. That is merely an idea put into your head. In actuality, you can walk away any time you want.”

“Well, that's not true. I need to work for a living.”“No, that's not true. You think you need to work like this because that's what you've been told. That is merely an idea put into your head. In actuality, you can walk away any time you want.”

“The hatred that I harbored for Lou and Paul faded into the background. The cold, lonely mountains which once filled my mouth and mind with the madness of Zarathustra shifted into a lithium passivity. Even Wagner was nothing more than a jester for some cathartic writing, allowing me to purge the bales of contempt that I had for the man.”

“What’s the matter for you? You wanna see a stereotypa, suck on my Italian sausage and…”Einstein interrupted by leaping out of his chair, hovering over Da Vinci with his eyes as wide open as possible. His long pointy tongue stuck out like a frog ready to snap at a fly.“Oh, you wanna licka my bocce balls, do you?”

“Disguised in a handlebar mustache with a ten gallon hat hanging low against his brow, Loki moseyed into Odin's party, despite the fact that he wasn't invited. Being dressed like Juan Valdez in a room full of people dawning Viking braids and pointy horned hats, however, tended to call attention to oneself. Odin's wife, Frigg, noticed Loki the moment that he stepped through the door, “What the Hel are you doing here? You weren't invited.”

“We should have smashed through the door long ago,” grunted Thor. Everyone had always thought of Thor as Lennie from Of Mice and Men: too big and too slow. The chief difference being that while Lenny accidentally hugged little animals to death, Thor had a penchant for beating the shit out of them with his war hammer, Mjolnir.”

“He passed the lighter down the table until Descartes held it in one hand while setting the greasy cylinder down on the table. After smoothing it out, Descartes sparked up the lighter. With the lighter drawn near the grease, the aroma of burnt hair filled the board room.”