I like onion rings

I like onion rings

so much, that when the burger joint I frequented was being held up, I told the gunmen to lay off of the short order cook for the sake of my onion rings. "You don't get to tell us w

I shoved the onion rings up through his throat & into his little brain. I grabbed the gun he forgot he was holding on me before his body could drop it. I checked his body for extra

limbs but only found the five. Wait, five? That didn't sound right. I checked again. The count was correct. This man whom I had gravely injured with onion rings

was none other than Count Snackula. I was rooted to the spot as the great count rose from his styrofoam coffin and beckoned to me with one finger, on which he wore an onion ring.

..and, of course, a Bugle. I stepped forward tentatively. Count Snackula was scary, but my hunger won out over my fear. The Count's eyes were green M&Ms & his mouth

Was made of red vines licorice. He looked into my eyes, put a hand behind my head, cradling it, drawing me in for a kiss. I bit into his lips and clawed at his candy eyes! So tasty

That I mistook it for the salt water taffy we once pulled together in his kitchen. This was before the television imploded on itself and burned the house down. I had to apologise

for my mistake. But the melted, blackened "taffy," belied my error. The house was gone. Did any of it really matter anymore? I would have apologized in any other... but I didn't.