"F*CKINSH*T-EATINGA-HOLE! WHAT THE F*CK ARE

"F*CKINSH*T-EATINGA-HOLE! WHAT THE F*CK ARE YOU DOING?!" my inner self screamed as I calmly wiped my hands on the linen napkin. "Anyone want dessert?" I asked politely, then turned

my head and sneezed over my shoulder, "Ah shitte!" No one seemed to notice. All of my guests agreed that dessert sounded very nice. So I blew a tiny whistle and summoned the French

Donut don't you know. I blew a tin horn and out came the powdered sugar, my word. Then I tapped the triangle. Out came the coffee. All my guests watched, mystified. I made a quacki

-ng sound and, heavens to Betsy! the table was all set. "This is the undoubtedly the most impressive séance ever!" exclaimed the vicar. Ectoplasm oozed from the coffee and donuts.

"Land sakes! I do believe those jelly donuts are starting to ooze." The vicar nibbled the edge of one, and powdered sugar dusted his jacket front. The spirits saw

All they needed to make informed wagers. Their bets were soon made & locked in and just in the nick of time. The 7th seal was broken & the 7th horn was blown to begin the Endtimes.

Farly had bet that after 30 min of dilly-dallying, God would send seven jazz greats who'd play 'When the Saints Coming Marching in' whlie Frank put his money on seven apocalyptic

vestal virgins, who could shake like fig pudding and distract God from the jazz players long enough for Frank and Farly to sneak out of heaven and go down to Earth for some real

fun. Frank & Farly weren't into mortal fun. No, they went for cataclysmic events like tidal waves & earth quakes. Their specialty was disappearing continents like Atlantis.

The atomic clockmaster himself created a golden undertow to stop their mischief. Ned's atomic dustbin was plaqued so no one would ever forget.