So Far:
One fine day..... a nimrod suggested between pork chops, that love is just a memory of a time of slow steamed honeyed figs and muddy footprints. Through countless fruitless editions, punctuated with occasional gasps of delight and shrieks of raucous audience guffaws,
they sporadically appended
(I couldn't allow the sentence to dangle like that, SkyHawk. Who can decide where a particular sentence should end?)
