"Well I'll be damned" swore Mr. Fitzgerald,

"Well I'll be damned" swore Mr. Fitzgerald, my high-school physics teacher. "There really are a multitude of angels dancing on the head of this pin."

Then of course, Aggie the skeptic raised her hand and shouted out, "What if there's no such thing as angels? I mean, it hasn't actually been proven-" But Mr. Fitzgerald, outraged,

turned his back to us, tore off his plaid jacket and revealed (gasp!) wings sprouting from his shoulder blades. "If there are no such thing as angels, then explain THIS!"

Jack jumped off the edge of the grand canyon. He spiraled to the grown like a meteorite until he spread his wings. The froth of the Colorado river tickled his chest

as he spread his Pterodactyl wings skimming the surface of the Colorado. He'd timed the stunt during high water to impress rafters. But there weren't any. Then an Anttenborosaurus

appeared, explaining in hushed, excited tones about how a Belted Kingfisher plunges head-first into water to catch it's prey. "Remarkable!" the Attenborosaurus exclaimed. 2 Irwins

I will bite him." The swordfish was dismissed and was replaced by an alewife, who thought she was a delicacy. Was she or wasn't she? Only her husband knew, and he was dead.

"I shall bite him too." The alewife was devoured, and joined her husband in that shadowy nether region.

In retrospect, that shadowy nether region found the alewife and her husband to be such disappointing appetizers that it turned its attention elsewhere for a more fulfilling buffet.