As for the stew, are we willing to get into the habit? We must appoint a Habbit Foreman to be in charge of the stew.
"The best I could find is a rabid horse", says gnu. "And I don't want to sacrifice my rabbit chasing hound, 'cause he's the dog of the hare that bit me. Luckily, I've had my rabbies shots. Can we substitute this pookah, instead.
What pookah? I don't see a pookah", asks the crowd

A little late, but still just in time, the aligator, as usual, comes in through the alley gate at a lumbering gait, muttering alley-gations to himself, and towing two Radio Flyer wagon-loads of Cajun food and spices, compliments of famed New Orleans chef Michael Rodeboadicheaux.

One of The Godess's bats flies down to Wombatty and says, "Hey, Cousin, why don't you hang up in the rafters with the rest of us. We don't want you to become Cousin Cuisine. I remember some French movie about that. They're rounding up the animals faster than Noah."

Hmmmm.....Frogprints! Frog passum this way not long ago, Chemo Sabe", Tonto says to Severn. Legs tastum like chicken." Tonto goes on the hunt.

The Doves, which it turns out are only Mock Turtle, withdraw into thier shells, and the voice of the turtle shall not be heard in the land tonight.


Gnu might be angry over being one for whom the Bell over-tolls, but Severn's in a friendly mood.
"Alexander Bell," says Severn, extending a hand (the right one, where the arm extends all the way). "The name rings a Gram. Pleased to finally meet you," he says as he backs up a few steps to take a picture of the visiting celebrity with his cell phone. Alexander, qiute confused, just looks at him and the phone quizically.

Hmmmm.....Frogprints! Frog passum this way not long ago, Chemo Sabe", Tonto says to Severn. Legs tastum like chicken." Tonto goes on the hunt.

Looks like one frog better be careful or he might make the annual Christmas Party Hop. "Quick, he cries, somebody kiss me!" Liz rushes out of the loo and obliges and the frogprince now looks like just another Catter.
"Whew, that was close!", says FP.
"Wanna get closer?" asks Liz, while the line for the lone loo at last gets longer with those who'd been circling on an endless holding pattern in lieu of an open loo.
The Squid, seeing his beloved Liz in the arms of another, seethes red with rage and green with envy. He looks very seasonal, actually...

What's the seafood dish this year, "Cala-a-la-Mmario"?