I was at the bar again and I'd had a few.

I was at the bar again and I'd had a few. I thought I said/meant to say: Hey, I'm Paul. You're pretty. Would you care to join me for a drink this evening? But what I actually said

was: "Hey, I'm Paul. You're pretty. Would you care to join me for a drink tomorrow evening?" This was deeply embarrassing as I had a prior engagement the next day. Ashamed, I went

totally berzerker on Paul and shot him in the neck with a stun gun. When I came to my senses, Paul had recovered. He was nice about it, that now I did owe him a drink, so I

sponged the back of his neck. "Sorry for the botched first attempt," I said as I re-fastened Paul to the chair and increased the gun's voltage. "Would you like some rum?" He nodded

then recited his first letter to the Philippians. "Yo, Philippian dudes, what's up?" That was as far Paul got before I tazed him again. This time was much more satisfactory.

I was the metaphoric "thorn" in the apostle Paul's side, you see. I'm the one Paul had to endure his entire life, despite his prayerful pleas for God to deliver him. I tazed him so

I took the feet & Paul took the arms. But he moaned about having to look at those cold staring eyes. "It's a bit late to start complaining now you're a cold blooded killer." The co

lor of their victim's lips was slowly turning blue, a sure sign that had set in, only adding to Paul's disgust. Paul could not have known this at the time, but the body they were

born from, had been their mother's. Paul reflected upon reproduction and had another cracker. He broke it in half, for Polly wanted a cracker too. And sharing is caring.