"Really?" Art Garfunkel was incredulous.

"Really?" Art Garfunkel was incredulous. "Rubbing parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme on my feet will do it?" "Indeed," intoned Dr. Robinson. Homeopathic remedies for foot odor

caused the bacteria on Art's big toe to flourish. The musky scent of Garfunkels toe carbunkle permeated Art & Paul's pad. Paul gave Art the silent treatment but the sound of silenc

e. Cecilia was anything but silent. "Look around," she yelled,"your feet are brown now." Art's stinking toe carbuncle was spreading infection all over his foot! There she was, Mrs

Robinson, M.D., specializing in foot fungus, boils, ingrown nails, swamp toe, crotch rot, and seducing young men by the pool. Mrs. Robinson said "Hi Art. Would you like a drink?"

"I would. Whisky on the rocks. Does it come with you?" Art replied boldly. Mrs Robinson poured the drink and walk over to him. She handed it over and said, "That depends."

And he said, "No this is Depends." He flagrantly brandished an adult diaper. Mrs. Robinson slapped him with a panty liner--with wings.

And was surprised when he did not bruise as expected.

In fact, he bruised all over, except for the place that was hit. He was like an Oompa-Loompa, only purple instead of orange, and with one unbruised spot, which stuck out like a

Sore thumb, which Oompa-Loompas tended to get after sitting in the sun for three days. The mangoes were protective of their cousins because they were so delicate and fell down a

rabbit hole at the slightest bump. The mangoes didn't want to know what was down there - rumour had it there was a place called Wonderland. The name, itself, terrified them.