[Before it folded these OOks had many visits by the primitive tracks. Danse Macabre gave this statement: "issues XXI - LV, will forever depart the ether on 30 Apr 2012. Microsoft is unilaterally exorcising its OfficeLive platform on that date. In toto."]
Once upon a time there were three big Ooks that lived in a house in
Dubity. Turk Ook was the Papafather, Mama Ook was the Mama mother, and
SueLit Ook was the baby who looked like her dad. Each Ook ate a bowl
of sausage for breakfast. There were ginger snaps stuck in the side.
If you didn’t count the chickens or the occasional gaseous emissions
they were quiet ooks, excluding a belch, the first sign.
Mama belched to Turk about his 800 pounds. When he and Sue walked in
the park their footprints filled with water and drowned little dogs who
were in the park to go PupPote. She defended PupPote, the proverbial
dismemberment Pups cause. It was necessary for Mama’s plate, called
eeing. Pups eat off Dame’s floor, which is nothing to her since she
eats all Ooks and Pups who are slaughtered and served up as remains.
There are no special meanings to Remains, PupPote, Park, Ook, etc. It’s
a lot to feed an Ook to an Ook. Ooks are like big books. She was the
Ook of fame. Turk was feeding Sue to Dame! It boggles the mind that
Turk the publisher fed and then was eaten.
The second sign of the Ook is passionate desire. Ma Ook, Dame Belcher
or Guapa Pop, she has a lot of names, ate both SueLit and her dad. He
had retired from publishing by then to write fairy tale, an 800 pound
Ook with a 600 pound Ooklet, Turk married the Guapa Mama for Ook amour.
She was his second Ook.
Were you Turk you longed to ook. Were you Dame you longed to ook,
although the sense is different, as if a pasty. Little dog PupPotes
long to be best sellers in Ook. In this rubble it wasn’t just breakfast
they cooked, but lunch pasties, Ham on Rye, and dinner with TV and
appliance. Modem in the left, forkem in the right, dinner was never so
So whatdaya eat when you eat an Ook, broadside big as ham, clerihews,
anthologized stew? It’s all a cure what ails. Indigest? Drink milk in
your poem. Sleep aid? Hunger? Roast PupPotem in your home. SueLit is a
beauty cure. What doesn’t Sue Ook cure? She’s that grape of the huge
alone. Had you the bone then the world would be one! One peace, one
world, one home! Susan! But where has she gone? That’s what we’re here
The secret came out when a goat tied to Dame Ook’s bumper blabbed.
Billy, with his Nanny and their kid went abba daba dab on the bumper.
The Dame kept PupPotes too in the back seat. There were little
Schnauzers, a Pomeranian, and a Pifawa paperback. Never in the
metaverse has this been solved.
To sum up, Mama Ook in a gingerbread house with smoke coming out the
top fattened up Turk for the kill. That smoke is the third sign of Ook.
When Turk went up it was as big a loss to little dogs as to big Ooks,
Turk being the source of all their food. Why would Dame fatten and
kill what made her live? On the other hand Mrs. Ook hungered. So she
ate some PupPote.
In their warning about Ooks, Ookem!, the goats had said that these
things were indigestible. Everyone knows now the mess, the gravy, meat
balls on the wall. The beauty of Ookistry is that these tales about
Turk and Sue Ook will bring them back.