Thanks.  It was an attempt to parody that super wordsmith Nabokov.

Thank you very much.  I'm glad you enjoyed the wordplay.

Thank you very much.  I'm glad you enjoyed the wordplay.

Drabble my way through Nabokov? — how very droll.      Was there a precursor to this fey creature, to this — shall we say — witchette?       Yes.  And when?  Oh, about as many years ago as I was older than Hermione.       Count on a pervert for tricksy prose.      In a faraway castle by a lake, over cauldrons steamy as our youth, I met Lily      of the white hands.  Lily white hands that prepared the parts of creatures for      the cauldron, parts magically come to life, parts for the cauldron heated by      our fire and stirred by your humble servant.  And it simmered and glowed      until the human voice of the professor inquired about it, about our potion      hot and bitter … She always wanted a coffee afterwards. Honestly, is this any way for an adult to spend time?

We don't have to spend it roaming Nabokov's reminiscent id, you know.  We can go romping through a more earthy garden of prose...or should I say, you could.  ('Tis your writing, after all.  Nice Lily vignette, btw.)  I'm just saying--write something else!  Write something more!  Write--something!!*purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrring*~Lotm

Thanks.  I suppse it's the product of a twisted brain.

Wingtips are good for flights of fancy.  If my muse-beetle left, I would get more exercise, fresh air, and sunshine, but I might miss it.Glad you liked the drabble and thanks for reviewing.