Hail, good Rupert-- where
doth yon equipment be?
Hath thou forgotten our
sparring appointment?
Aah, I don't feel much
like sparring today, man.
 
Wot doth be thine
crisis, good Rupert?
That's a good question.
It just feels like something--
is missing in my life.
 
  I'm not sure how to explain
it, really. It's almost as if
I've lost my muse.
 
Perhaps thou shouldst
think about seeing yon
good philosopher?
Screw that quack. The
bastard keeps cracking
jokes about Freud and
pointing at his wang.
 
HARK! RUPERT!
ART THOU STILL
AN ASS-CLOWN?
   
 
HAH-HAH!
THOU CANST
ANSWER THAT
PROPERLY!
  Bob, I've just come to the
realization that you're holding
my muse in your right hand.