The fate of the world was in my hands. This

The fate of the world was in my hands. This was the turning point, this was the dice roll that would determine the outcome of the most dramatic Risk game in history. And I rolled a

5 and a 4. HaHah! YesYesYes! I had repelled the attack from Venezuala, my continental stronghold in N. America remained intact, and I had a card turn-in worth 35 armies on my turn.

& began my expansion North into Central America & east to Brazil. But I got bogged down in the rainforests by anarchist conservationists & amazonian tribes. Risk Global Warmings

was emblazoned on their shirts. They didn't know it but I was the Ghost of Che Guevara. I tried to tell the amazonian tribes this, but they were singing so loud they couldn't

perceive cotton. Someday when their breath and crooning subsided, our so-called common reality might come into focus, but Che would just

Magazine had the exclusive. Whenever she did anything, millions in ad revenue were generated -- and this photoshoot was going to top them all! Her manager, Sleazy P. Martini, had

a bad case of psoriasis & his skin flaked all over the photoshoot site. Thinking fast, she decided to use his flakes on the setting & make it a winter scene. The models emerged,

skimpily clad with droll looks on their faces. They arranged themselves among the psoriasis flakes. "OK, let's go!" she said as the cameras began whirring. "Work it, girls! Show me

the pinks of your eyes!" It was just as well that the nuns were led by Sister Mary Glaucoma that day, because the photographer was none other than Sister Mary Myopia.