One morning, as Gregor Samsa began to wake from anxious dreams, he discovered that in bed his familiar human body had transformed into a monstrous verminous bug. He lay on his armour-hard back and saw, as he lifted his head up a little, his brown, arched abdomen divided up into rigid bow-like sections. From this height the blanket, just about ready to slide off completely, could hardly stay in place. His numerous legs, pitifully thin in comparison to the rest of his circumference, flickered helplessly before his eyes.
“What’s [has] happened to me,†he thought. He shook off sleep and dreams. His room, a proper room for a human being, only somewhat too small, lay quietly between the four well-known walls. Above the table, on which an unpacked collection of sample cloth goods lay spread outâ€â€which Samsa sold on the road to make a livingâ€â€hung the picture he had cut out of an illustrated magazine a little while ago and set in a pretty gilt frame. A woman with a fur hat and a fur boa peered out from the image. She sat erect there, lifting up in the direction of the viewer a solid fur muff into which her entire forearm had disappeared.
o:O:o
return volley:
[b]Quote from Dead Man:[/b]SALLY: Once upon a time, there were three bears in the forest.
A big bear, a medium mommy bear…
and a tiny little baby bear.
One mornin’, they were gonna eat their breakfast porridge.
They had a big bowl, a medium bowl and a tiny little bowl.
That porridge was too hot.NOBODY: Stupid white man. William Blake, you go to them.
WILLIAM BLAKE: What? Alone? Why don’t we just go around them?
NOBODY: No! You go. It’s a test.
WILLIAM BLAKE: I don’t know those people, and they don’t look very friendly. What if they kill me?
NOBODY: Nobody will observe.
WILLIAM BLAKE: All right, I’ll go. I’d rather not, but I’ll go. What’s the best way to get down there?
NOBODY: Be quiet and go.
SALLY: . . .and he tore her head off her body. And he took that golden hair, and he made a sweater for baby bear.
BIG GEORGE: That’s terrible.
SALLY: Tonight we’re reminded of the evil emperor, Nero Augustus, he was the scourge of all the Christians.
BIG GEORGE: What’s a scourge?
SALLY: I’ts like when somethin real bad happens, like when everybody gets killed, and you can’t do anything about it. Like a swarm of locusts. For the entertainment of his guests, Nero would illuminate his whole garden with bodies of live Christians, covered in burning oil, strung up on flaming crosses, crucified. At dinner, he’d have the Christians rubbed by his guards with aromatic herbs and garlic, and sewn up into some sacks, then they’d throw these sacks to the wild dogs.
BIG GEORGE: That’s terrible.
SALLY: It’s horrible.
BIG GEORGE: Terrible is what it is. You know I just, I can’t drink whiskey like I usetacould. My old belly just ain’t no count. I get the shits every time don’t you know.