The Siamese cats hiss at the wyrm and start singing ("if you can call it that", grumbles the wombat):

"Slime little sloe wyrm, slimmer, slimmer...."

The wombat grabs both of the cats, ties their tails together in a triple knot, swings them around by their joined tails over his head a few times and finally lets fly with them as hard as he can. With a horrible shriek (though actually more on key than their singing), they fly out the open doorway to the beach, which had been somewhat enlarged by the departing rhino, and way out over the ocean so far that we can't even hear the splash.

After a long and lingering pre-, birthday kiss from Teresa that he'd been hoping would last clear into his birthday, Severn is grinning from ear to ear.
"Thank you, O kind and beautiful lady" he tells her. "I've always maintained that every kiss tells a story, though some, alas, can be expressed in a single punctuation mark, but if you ever want to collaborate on creating the Great American Novel, I'm game, and always in season."
"Let's. Just leave it as a very sweet memory" she replied. Unnoticed, she pulls down the mistletoe and disposes it in a nearby receptacle. "That was actually enjoyable enough," she thinks, "but if I leave that stuff hanging, all those guys will suddenly be claiming. birthdays., and all that sudden aging gets old real fast...