Sir Rovvland himſelf, as you vvill gueſs by his particularity, is an old bachelor, and one vvho vvants to have a vvoman made on purpoſe for his nephevv; and vvho poſitively inſiſts upon qualities, before he knovvs her, not one of vvhich, perhaps, his future niece vvill have.

“Your desert boots are fitted slip-fashion at the ankles. Who told you to do that?” It . . . seemed the right way. That it most certainly is. And Kynes rubbed his cheek, thinking of the legend: He shall know your ways as though born to them.

A what? A sickle moon. It's shaped like a sickle, you know — a tool. There used to be one on the flag of the USSR.

Most MSTers confine their riffing to original fan fiction rather than scripts from corporate-owned entertainment properties, which renders such twice-removed MSTing somewhat toothless: the cannibalizing parody of a patische.