text_original: Cracked, my boy. It is more than probable that by now it is splintered into dust" "Oh, good 'evins! Harold Brooke, what a fool you are!" Mr. Fungst raised his two fat hands above his well oiled head, as if he were appealing to the skies.
text_transcription: CRACKED MY BOY IT IS MORE THAN PROBABLE THAT BY NOW IT IS SPLINTERED INTO DUST OH GOOD HEAVENS HAROLD BROOKE WHAT A FOOL YOU ARE MISTER FUNGX RAISED HIS TWO FAT HANDS ABOVE HIS WELL OILED HEAD AS IF HE WERE APPEALING TO THE SKIES
phonemes: kɹˈækt, maɪ bˈɔɪ. ɪɾ ɪz mˈɔːɹ ðɐn pɹˈɑːbəbəl ðæt baɪ nˈaʊ ɪɾ ɪz splˈɪntɚd ˌɪntʊ dˈʌst" "ˈoʊ, ɡˈʊd ˈɛvɪnz! hˈæɹəld bɹˈʊk, wˌʌt ɐ fˈuːl juː ɑːɹ!" mˈɪstɚ. fˈʌŋst ɹˈeɪzd hɪz tˈuː fˈæt hˈændz əbˌʌv hɪz wˈɛl ˈɔɪld hˈɛd, æz ɪf hiː wɜːɹ ɐpˈiːlɪŋ tə ðə skˈaɪz.