'Invalid response' my ass! It's my phone,

'Invalid response' my ass! It's my phone, and I'll answer it any way I like, or not at all if I so choose. I'm sick & tired of these nuisance calls from scammers trying to get your

....'If you wish to reach the main menu press 1'.... I HAVE A VINTAGE ROTARY PHONE HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO PRESS 1! I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE!" I slammed down the reciever.

I chugged a fifth of Jack and sawed the barrel off a shotgun. I grabbed a ski mask, some duct tape, my newly minted sawed off, and headed for the telemarketer's house.

There, I was greeted with hospitality. After going sawn-off hunting, we went to the ski fields where, true to the telemarketer's warning, the skis had to be fixed with the tape.

I sighed. "Well", I managed to recite between cuss words, pissed about the broken skis, "Might as well continue the hunt." I turned and pumped a shell into the friendly man. His

A also saw a giant mushroom cloud leading me to wonder whether this was anything more than your everyday go-cart. Good thing this accident happened in Florida so nothing of value

was lost, except perhaps the massive tourism industry. And Epcot Center. I suppose I would miss that. The mushroom cloud kept expanding. I turned and asked, "The go-cart,

is it ready?" My robot nodded yes, and we got in. Then, I drove it into the underground world that had been constructed in case of a nuclear war. I heard the mushroom cloud envelop

the shelter which I now shared with my robot, a 25 yr supply of spam & a pack of playing cards. Robby was confined to a wheelchair, cheated & his black gloved hands creeped me out.