A dialogue on oatmeal

Robert Robus: It is said that oatmeal is the staff of life; and verily (despite my obsession with all cuisines French) I believe such to be the case.

Tartar: I like to eat popcorn and doughnuts.

Robert Robus: Indeed, oatmeal is a glorious and splendiferous feast: for with butter, milk, and brown sugar--and, perhaps, raisins--it tastes exceedingly well.

Tartar: Popcorn and doughnuts are the best foods ever!

Robert Robus: The virtues of oatmeal cannot be overextolled: for oatmeal is a splendiferous feast. Its robust and thickish texture; its warming essence; its congealed mass of unmitigated greatness; and its 'bokay'; all converge to bring about the state of affairs that every good meal begins and ends with oatmeal.

Tartar: Doughnuts rule!

Robert Robus: And, while some of our more pedestrian minds have in recent fortnights begun to question whether oatmeal is, in fact, the most splendiferous foodsticuffs in all of existence, I assure these lesser minds that this is, in fact, the case. For no gentleman of discernment, assuredly, will dare to bring into question oatmeal's status as the very pinnacle of tastebud-satiation and esculenticity.

Tartar: I like to eat doughnuts in planes. I like to eat doughnuts in trains. I like to eat doughnuts in front of Chicktoria's Secret. Doughnuts are great and you just can't beat it. In fact, doughnuts are much, much (and even) better than...

Robert Robus: Now, hold it right there, Tartar! I deduct precisely what you are about to utter, and I must say, I will not stand for such blasphemy on my blog! My musings may have been interrupted in the past by snap-happy canines, prognathous and degenerate curs, and muricate-stingered insects, but this I shall not stand for! No, Tartar: for oatmeal is truly and verily (and, of course, sacrosanctly) the most superlative edible in history! Now, I call for an end to this dialogue, and a beginning to a long, stern, principled, and unmitigatedly harsh harangue on the part of yours truly!

Tartar: No.

Robert Robus: Oh, very well, young upstart Tartar...you get your way this time. But I shall be more firm in future, I assure you. Now let's go have lunch, shall we?

Tartar: As long as it's doughnuts!

Robert Robus: Why, you scoundrel! I'll...I'll...

Robus (whose interlocutor, it should be noted, quickly follows suit) lurches into action, pursues the young upstart with a large bowl of tepid oatmeal, and yells, 'Here! Eat this! Here! Eat this!' without cease.

[NOTE FROM BLOG VICE-ADMINISTRATOR (BLOG ADMINISTRATOR IS OUT TODAY)]
The conclusion of the dialogue cannot be ascertained at this time; but surely, the oatmeal has been consumed by either one or both of the distinguished interlocutors, or by some combination thereof. Therefore (and for this reason alone), all is well.

Robert Robus takes a nap

Zzzzzzz, snort...Zzzzzz, snort...Zzzzzz, snort.

Robert Robus sniffs an efflorescence

Ah, what a day, dear readers! The sky is blue, the fields are verdant, the sun is twinkling resplendently off the waters of nearby oceans and/or lakes (if indeed there be any oceans and/or lakes proximate to individual readers); and--of course most importantly--the gloriously splendiferous weather we've had of late has coaxed many brilliant efflorescences to bloom amid these veritably astonishing bursts of foliage.

And, while there are so many species of flowering plant proximate to yours truly as to simply confound many of our more pedestrian minds, I, Robert Robus, am not of such a narrow intellect as those: for I, Robert Robus, am an intelligent, subtle, and brilliant comedian. And so it is that, upon espying these veritably infinite expanses of efflorescences--or, if you prefer, flowers--on hills proximate to yours truly, I, Robert Robus, quickly zeroed in on an expanse of orange lilies: for it is these lilies, readers will note, that are a precise favorite of--and also, incidentally, wildly popular among--young bumblebees of this locality.

And now I, Robert Robus, have reached down and plucked one of these pristine orange efflorescences--without stopping to scrutinize the blossom for insect visitors, of course--and quite subsequently brought said efflorescence to my smelling-orifices (or, if you prefer, nose), ahnd--OH NO! OWWWWWW! OWWWWCH! OWWWWCH! I, Robert Robus, have just been stung by a young, yet strangely curmudgeonly, young bumblebee, yellowjacket, and/or wasp! This is a disaster, folks! For although I, Robert Robus, am allergic to neither bumblebees, yellowjackets, nor wasps, I, Robert Robus, on the other hand am the world's greatest cybercomedian.

Thus, Robert Robus finds it imperative that the world community collectively foot any and all of his medical bills, both on this occasion and on any and all occasions in the future.

[NOTE FROM BLOG ADMINISTRATOR]
Note: This tragic and entirely unforeseen incident was not staged.