"That's Mistress Banana Hammock, to you!"

"That's Mistress Banana Hammock, to you!" shrieked the old lady. I didn't have a clue what she was on about, I hadn't said a word to her, let alone called her a banana hammock.

but, then I looked at her, studying her curly black hair and bushy mustache. "That's right!" The elderly Mistress Banana Hammock cried, before I could. "Borat is my boyfriend."

As soon as those words came out of her mouth, I smaked her across her old crusty face. "WHY?!?! WHY?!?! WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO YOUR HUSBAND?!?!!" She feebly murmured,

"Is that as hard as you can hit?" She grinned. She was clearly baiting me. The whole situation seemed fairly fishy. And the heat was really getting to me. I stormed outside.

As I got in my car, I saw her watching me through the curtains. Our eyes locked, and my hand trembled over the shifter. Then her eyes started glowing, and I snapped into action

the objects in the mirror are closer than they appear. Such blasphemy! What kind of witchcraft was this?

Shark Lady had mysteriously vanished but not before her shark toothed husband blamed Russia for her catastrophic election loss. Putin laughed and told him prove it or shut up.

They both knew that if he provided the proof he would in turn implicate himself in other sordid projects. Putin would not even have to lift a fingerless hand to prove his point.

so instead of proving it he taped rockets to his feet and fled to the moon. There he lived in relative safety as a legal alien, or legal space alien.