Ashamed, I sped Veronica to the ER in my

Ashamed, I sped Veronica to the ER in my convertible. A banana was lodged in her throat. I warned her about practicing fellatio on fruit while laying down, but she didn't listen.

I shouldn't have felt so embarrassed. "We see this sort of thing 2 or 3 times every day," the frizzy-haired nurse intoned. Veronica, the banana now dislodged, sat up. "Really?"

"Yes, if people knew they would cower in fear from their crispers", the nurse continued. "But I don't keep my bananas in the crisper", Veronica said hoping not to be lumped with

together with that Sort. The Sort looked around suddenly as if by some sense alien to you or I, she knew that somebody was Folding about her. Her eyes tracked directly to mine as I

typed the next line. Her eyes are piercing into the back of my skull as I write this. I can feel her urge to kill. This was a mistake. I can't believe this is how I'm going to die.

Torn apart by a madwoman with a dangerous lust for typewriters. Her jealousy and rage knew no limits, not a shred of compassion given to anyone who stood in her way. She leapt at

typewriters the way a starving cat leaps upon a mouse, the way a beggar leaps upon a coin. The madwoman of Corona drooled as she dragged a typewriter back to her lair. She had

ideas, of stories to write on the marvelous device, her skinny fingers twitching in anticipation . Once in the safety, She hunched over the typewriter, typing away a story about

a small yet ferocious breed of giraffe goat hybrid which lived on an ice mountain. The giraffe goats were forever slipping down the mountain so they invented a new type of

slide so that their continuous decent to the bottom would at least being them a fleeting sense of joy. It would also be fun to push down their enemies.