The parrot plant shook its beak and leaves wildly, almost tipping itself and the little pot over, with drops of grapple juice spraying in all directions.

But notwithstanding my cupidity for such dainties, I have that happy adaptation of taste which can banquet, with delight, upon hesternal offals; can nibble ignominious radishes, or masticate superannuated mutton.

D'ye think I am to be John Tamson's man, and maistered by women a' the days o' my life ?

Superintendent Chalmers: Why is there smoke coming out of your oven, Seymour? Seymour Skinner: Uh- Oh. That isn't smoke. It's steam. Steam from the steamed clams we're having. Mmm. Steamed clams.