Her eyes lit up as she unwrapped the cologne.

Her eyes lit up as she unwrapped the cologne. "Oh, Roger!" But a few spritzes left her speechless. It smelled like kerosene with a top note of flea spray. She tried to maintain

a smile, but then Roger whipped out his lighter. Was the cologne actually kerosene? At least the fleas would stay away from her corpse, she thought. He leaned in with the flame and

his hair caught on fire. He shouted, "Oh no, this is what happened to Michael Jackson!" He dunked his head into the black pool of goo in the Corpse's cavity to put it out. A littl

e while after this his decrepitude set in, but he recovered from the mouldering hand the golden glove and put it on. Involuntarily his legs moonwalked him until he slipped falling

head over dale, tumbling the merry valley way into a goopy puddle of detriment. The mud proved beneficial for the complexion (so they say), but his golden glove was tarnished.

He emerged from the mud pond and found himself in a land of unicorns and yellow fairies. They were singing something about John Lennon, imagination, and fun times with communism.

He grew fur, horns and a tail. Suddenly he had four legs. The yellow fairies said, "Welcome to Middle Earth. This is your new home." He wanted to call Mum, but there was no phone.

"Smoke signals" he thought. The panicked fairies burned bright yellow, their bodies sending his message to the surface in puffs that said: "One cheese pizza, 4 Elf Rd Middle Earth"

"I didn't order this pizza," grumbled Thistleplums, and shut the door in the Dewdrop the delivery elf's pointed face. Out in the glen he could hear the fairies snickering.

It was sad, really, for Thistleplums was unpleasant because he'd been abused when he was but a wee bud, & now...now...sniff...he was being BULLIED! Thistleplums needed therapy.