“Base to Captain Gromit, Base to Captain

“Base to Captain Gromit, Base to Captain Gromit. Come in Captain Gromit.” “Captain Gromit. Come in Captain Gromit. Where are you?” “Captain Gromit. This is an urgent message!"

Captain Gromit to Base: Stardate 420; The Menduvian clouds are still heavy, communication with the troops has been strained to the limit. Wait, is this thing even on?

The reverb that screeched from the speakers indicated to him that the mic was indeed on. Alright then, without further ado, Ladies and Gentlemen, Ms. Barbra Streisand! The roar

was gone. It was dead quiet except for a member of the audience had fallen and couldn't get up, she clicked her Life Alert device. Streisand looked at her aged audience and

were suddenly so many children in the room that the air conditioning could not compensate. Choked and suffocating on the stench of compressed bodies, I made my way to the exit,

The kids followed me like a pied piper. "Whatcha doing? Where are you going?" I jumped in the limo. Five tots hopped in before I could close the window. "I'm 5 years old. Candy?"

"Get the fuck out of here you stupid kids!" I pushed toddlers out of the windows as I told the limo driver to hit the gas. Thunk-thunk. Flinging babies like footballs onto the

road while the cameras rolled. The huggies with built in airbags inflated flawlessly as each baby landed. Being a W.C Fields double was finally beginning to pay off. In my next Ad

venture, Spam Baby and I explore ANCIENT EGYPT, which apparently is filled with 1920s flappers and slide whistles...