Desperation is one of those themes that only

the space where she had stood moments before. Each bullet was a tear for what he had lost, the bang a howl of his pain. Jack needed his Jill like a

breathing apparatus on a plane going down. Jack would wait for Jill to fall from the overhead compartment, then place her over his mouth before assisting others. His tears

showed just how much Jack had missed Jill during the plane trip. The cargo hold was filled with the water that their village so desperately needed. The water was contaminated with

eczema. The kind where you blister to the touch. Jill and the villagers screamed in pain when Jack made the delivery, their skin seething interminably. Sex was right off, for sure.

Nothing relieved the agony! Ah, the AGONY! Jack and Jill ran back up the hill to fetch another pail of water. This was getting tiring. Jack, the clumsy oaf

with a bad case of obsessive compulsive disorder, set back up the hill and insisted that exactly 3 quarts of water was added to the bucket in 3-drop increments, or his penis would

need to be wiped three times with a string of paperclips. In addition to struggling with OCD he had a horrific skin disorder that covered his entire right foot. On the hilltop he

would sing about bishops wisking eggs for him in the mornings sunrise and his dreams of his OCD deminishment. His trumpet player accompanied him on the hilltop as well. Only to try

to prevent him from regression; he didn't want him becoming enraged! Then, at the top of the hill, the trumpet player let out a resounding blow of his horn, killing OCD man dead.