Good morning gentlemen, as you all probably

Good morning gentlemen, as you all probably know we are gathered here today to pay our respects to our dear leader, James Jameson McJames III, who sadly passed away due to his

name's malignant "Mc" tumor, which engulfed his name's every "James"; and, when the "III" had no "James" to support it, each "I" fell like dominoes and crushed him. James's estate

was handled by The Executor, who had masterminded James' demise while no one (tee-hee) was the wiser. A deceptively affable fellow, The Executor was popular among the Kiwanis

until his lack of empathy was discovered during a yawning contest. The Executor had been rumbled and was bound by the Kiwanis to mediate domestic disputes and arbitrate family law

arbor disputes. It's sad when members of family trees fight and bicker with each other about the trees on family owned property. But well, the Executor had bills to pay, so he anno

unced the death sentence of the entire family tree. The beheadings were to be executed on a wooden block made from exactly the trees whose timber rights the family had fought over.

The youngest of the family, barely 9 years old, looked up to her mother. "What's gonna happen? Are we gonna die?" A single, sorrowful tear slid down her cheek.

"This seems oddly familiar" looking at his other hand, a prosthetic to replace the unfortunately amputated appendage. Life had been hard for the young boy ever since

the accident, but he knew his recent experiences would help him make sense of his new situation and eventually come to terms with it, even if right now that seemed impossible.