eric

It took place in the midnight in the University's Great Hall, in a welter of incense, candlesticks, runic inscriptions and magic circles, none of which was strictly necessary but which made the wizards feel better.

Running her fingers on the scales, she sighs. __ wonder what its like to be a human?___hy won__ you just go and find out?_ the question startled her. She whirled around to come face to face with her evil aunt; Ursula.

How charming. The king and his little princess knocking on my covens door._ Ursula sighed dramatically. __hat do you insolent merfolks want with me now? I swear I haven__ eaten any of your children._-Ursula

Father, what are you to do now?__riton__ sneer grew scarier. __he broke the law._ turning away from the terrified faces of his daughters. __he must die.

She probably fell asleep and was washed away by the tortoise waves!_-Arista

I do love you. I love you enough to accept who you are. Why can__ I received the same feeling in return?_-Ariel

Ariel: __ric!__ric: __o not sing me back to shore! Not until you are standing on two feet!

And now," Eric yelled into his mircophone, "we're going to sing a new song-one we just wrote. This one's for my girlfriend. We've been going out for three weeks, and, damn, our love is true. We're gonna be together forever, baby. This one's called 'Bang You Like a Drum.

Political problems ruin meals. Let it be known as Eric__ Law of Lunch henceforth.

I hated meatloaf. It was like something that Satan pooped out after an eternity of constipation. So I told Mom because I was honest that way. I sat back, squared my shoulders, and met her eyes, all confident-like."Mom, meatloaf's like something that Satan pooped out after an eternity of constipation. It should be outlawed, frankly, and serving it for dinner is like child abuse and should carry with it some pretty stiff penalties.

Sunday is God's day, and he was committed to honoring it. Just because he was in Paris to compete in the Olympics didn't justify changing his lifelong commitment.

She winced and covered her ears as Eric,onstage, wrestled with his microphone."Sorry about that, guys!" he yelled. "All right. I'm Eric, and this is my homeboy Matt on the drums. My first poem is called 'Untitled.'" He screwed up his face as if in pain, and wailed into the mike. "Come my faux juggernaut, my nefarious loins! Slather every protuberance with arid zeal!"Simon slid down in his seat. "Please don't tell anyone I know him."Clary giggled. "Who uses the word 'loins'?""Eric," Simon said grimly. "All his poems have loins in them."'Turgid is my torment!" Eric wailed. "Agony swells within!""You bet it does," Clary said.

Political problems ruin meals. Let it be known as Ericâ__s Law of Lunch henceforth.