It twas a cold winter’s morn that Jay met his layde be on the floor of Jay’s Kitchene. The layde twas engaged in the householde worke suiting the fairer sex. Jay told of the queste to yon mailbox where he made the discovere that the postman had not come about. His feet were adorned with his fine leathre boots, a fact that yon lady could not abide as they were wet with snow.

“Get your goddamn boots of the floor, I just cleaned that!”

Jay let forth a harty laugh, “Haha, you merely need to scrub it agian once I have removed myself towards a journye elsewhere!”

“God, you’re insufferable. Can you at least journey to the freaking trash can?” Jay’s layde be handed forth a strange sack of elastic fabrik.

What a strange request! Sir Jay surely be above such matters. Refusing the bag from his layde be, Jay retired to the magik glowing rectangel to ponder its secrets once more.

Tra la la !
Bold sir Jay left the trash behind !
Fa la la !
For it is beneath his exalted kind !
Tra la la, Fa la !