“That’ll be enough from you!” the Widow Twankey warned him, growing red. “And does he have a face like a Button-Nosed Tortoise, too?” “Which Side of the Family is Wicked Uncle Abanazar?” asked the Son and Heir, intrigued. He’s miles away in Persia, where we banished him.” “Our Spies, Who are Everywhere, would have informed us. “My Ormulu Ear-rings! I know what’s happened, Aladdin!” Your Wicked Uncle Abanazar is back in town!” “It’s obviously an Enchantment, or a Wicked Spell, or Both, or Worse!” declared the Widow Twankey darkly. “it clearly calls for some Careful Thinking on Everybody’s part.” “Ah, I begin to Grasp the Problem!” said the Son and Heir, looking suitably pensive. “It’s just that - it’s simply that - what I mean is,” he explained, “it doesn’t happen! It’s not possible! You can’t talk at your age! That’s all there is to it!” “I didn’t mean to sound unfatherly,” the Emperor Aladdin floundered kind-heartedly. “Maybe the Stork brought me to the wrong Palace?” suggested his Son and Heir apologetically.
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