"Here's a scintillating opening line." Evil-EE read aloud; "We come from the farm, reeking and stinking of shanty Irish, a family of drinking fools unable to express any emotion except anger. Sounds like multisyllabic, metaphysical lit-fic. All beefy smell and no beefy substance."
"More playwright Eugene than Styronic smell of roses from the south," Good-EE tossed the manuscript like a hot potato. The shredder howled, tornado-like. They read another manuscript. "OH MY Holy Roller! How about opening with this; the most adventuresome food I ever ate was a mutton burger garnished with head cheese and served on a hot-crossed bun by a naked warrior in a Turkish bath"
"Avast me hardies! A seafaring adventure as appetizing as fried butt barnacles from a scurvy cuttlefish." Evil-EE twirled his muttonchops.
"Goodbye cookbook memoir. Whatcha got? Rats and cats? Dogs and Dodos?"
"Making my eyes bleed. It's drivel passing as flatulence, parading thru a swine pen and hanging on a Christmas cactus." Evil-EE shredded the Manuscript with his teeth.
"And this, is a Dan Brown wannabee shoveling manure outa Vatican City's barn. I'm not fact-checking all those obscure, truffle-like artifacts he digs like a bloodhound with a snootful of toot." Good-EE sighed.
"Both these manuscripts can fly like little wing-ed pork chops into the depths of swinish Sheol." The manuscripts thudded in the shredder. "Onward! Excelsior! The never-ending search through purple prose. Let us go then, you and I, into one last slurp of paper slushie," Bad-EE declaimed. Another pair of manuscripts met their eyes. Eyes like Nuns scrutinizing girl's skirts.
"In the summer of 1890, Mai-Tai Poon worked up to chief oyster shucker on a whaling boat in the South China Sea. It's poonerific booty," Bad-EE read.
"I'd rather be deaf, dumb and blind on Uranus."
"Yer' right! Pearl Buck, it ain't."