They say you're supposed to clap your hands

They say you're supposed to clap your hands if you believe in fairies. That wasn't my problem; I believed in fairies ever since that one time the foul-tempered things actually

caught me up their sticky web. What? You've never heard that fairies can spin webs? Well, these did. They had me trussed up like the guy from "Gulliver's Travels." Not only that,

There spirited display and scant translucent frocks had me daydreaming of midnight dalliances. Tens of them gathering around a may pole, wrapping it in silken ribbons, dancing on

palm fronds and fine white sand. It was a spiritual moment, one that defined my religious beliefs much later in life. I can't say if it was the rum punch or the cocaine that made

my colon churn out the maple-bacon infused gas. These were cholera clouds. This cocktail party wasn't ready for this either. But I didn't care. I never have. I could frame the

person next to me, but instead, went to medicine cabinet where I found a bevy of lubricant and condoms. Great grandpa Irving had lost g-gramma Ethel years before. I discovered

that he had since been satisfying his carnal urges through "safe masturbation" - a technique only taught in the most progressive Catholic schools during the Great Depression. Sadly

the practice consisted solely of polishing his pew. Polishing the ridge where the Bibles sat was considered shelf abuse.

And this book...has been shut. YEAHHHHHH!

So that my friends is the end of our story tonight