At 11;47 am on a Tuesday, all the mimes in

At 11;47 am on a Tuesday, all the mimes in the world stopped in their tracks and began to migrate to New Zealand. Thousands drowned on the sea-leg of their journey, puddles of

white and black grease paint washed to the shore. The mimes made invisible rafts and pretended to row. They arrived in New Zealand by the thousands, a quiet stampede.

"What now?"The pitiful mimes gestured at each other. The Maori tribes of New Zealand greeted the mimes as they washed up ashore and played charades on the beach for hours, until

one of the mimes unwittingly stuck his tongue out. The Maori went totally ape shit and started slapping their thighs and gnashing teeth

ing pills for babies into a sort of anaesthetic slurry that was slopped onto the neck and chest in a futile attempt to partially mitigate the next step of impending ritual.

The vitamix blender went on all night, no one slept.

Yet, she managed to get 5.17 hours of sleep that night and to show up at work before everyone else... only to realize that it was a holiday

tradition to arrive 2 hours early on April Fools' Day. She had been had once again! "Why, I'll show those corporate scumbags!" she muttered acridly. Buying a propane torch from the

Hank Hill Hardware Store on the corner, she defied their wishes and grilled out on the front steps. When the authorities arrived and tried to apprehend her she yelled "April Fools"