I tell ya I wanted ta find more a me herbs ta sell ta the pet lovin' crowd, certain fer sure dat parrot o'Mourninglory coulda used a bit of a feather glossin' treatment - but the Yserbian Idol contest kept me by da door. Lots a boltin' in an' out, mysterious winds and crazy laughin' - it reminded me a why I wanted ta be a petal pusher in da first place, People an' how ya could count on em' being as different, one from ta other, as the herbs an' flowers that they buy. Not a one of em was any better than another. But I see I haf ta cast a vote.
::thinks a good long time, chewin' on a daisy stem::
Well, I got me a good look at dat der Fleetwood fella. He ain't much ta look at, but honesty gets me vote. He sings dat he feels short like a dwarf. I looked him up, I looked him down, den I looked sorta in da middle, an' I think he be tellin' the truth.
::Leaves a packet a special mixed herbs fer a potent elixer::
Ya got a good voice, Fleetwood, yer honest about yer shortcomings - an' I know ya know what I be meanin' by dat - and ya got my vote. Mix them herbs up with some good Dragon Court ale an' at least ye'll be regular fer a week er two - after dat yer gonna most likely go back ta short, if ya know what I be meanin', an I know dat ya do.