(in room 7, the three occupants are seated in the middle of the floor, telling ghost stories)
Storyteller: And the stifling, retch-inducing sulfur fumes burbled up as the young Fraggle made his way along the wall of the Caves of Nausea, when he met...
MN: A terrible mage, with equally terrible clawed hands and a face that could turn water to ice in seconds. The mage glared down at the Fraggle and proclaimed...
Nora: "Fool, you have trespassed inside my sacred caves, and your disgustingly Fragglish presence threatens to disrupt my magic."
Storyteller: "Threatens to disrupt my magic?"
Nora: Come on, it's been a long day, and I'm all out of really terrifying adjectives and verbs. Let's see...ahem...the mage said, "I will only let you leave this cave alive, if you..."
MN: "Can tell me the airspeed of the average unladen swallow."
(room dissolves in fits of cackling and giggling)
Storyteller: Hey, wait, I thought we agreed, no Holy Grail references this time!
MN: I know, I know, but the two jokers upstairs (points up to where Jim and Richard are sitting on their respective clouds in heaven) were starting to complain that the story was entirely too serious.
Storyteller: Oh. Sorry, boys.