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I pulled the plug, but the light bulb didn't

  • I pulled the plug, but the light bulb didn't blink. The entire house was lit up and buzzing. I flailed down the hall to the breaker and pulled them all, without effect. The doors

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  • screamed insults as I sprinted past, telling me I was no runner and should go back to Kenya for more training. I stuck my tongue out at the mahogany and shouted

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  • "Hwrashwetg ashte aksdnwm auh uh ilsksh," before I realized that it's impossible to yell and stick my tongue out at the same time if I want my words to be understood. Luckily, I

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  • magic jack so I can waste time on the phone. Next time I call Korea to talk to Uncle Loo I will open with a knock knock joke. This is all part of my experimental

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  • joke therapy for my Korean uncle, Skip Loo. Unbeknownst to me, romper room bullies saddled my uncle with his lingering moniker, "Skip Tooda Loo." My innocent joke went awry, and

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  • one day my uncle snapped at a children's store when he heard that infamous nursery rhyme. "I'll show YOU Skip Tooda Loo!" he shouted as he opened fire, a spray of bullets

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  • kicking up a skiff of freshly fallen snow. It fluttered earthward like so many angel kisses, and my uncle was so appalled by his own actions that he retired that gun. Now he

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  • contemplated the twitching corpse of the last carrier pigeon. The burial was swift. The stone read simply, "Returned to Sender." It was a sad day for ornithology. A sad day indeed.

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  • Alternatives were suggested, of course. Carrier bees, carrier bats, even carrier dust-mites with nano-fiche affixed to their nano-butts. Maybe narrow-casting wasn't the answer. We

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  • Killed all of the custard cremes that made my mother sick. The end.

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