Inside the lint trap, there lurks a grizzled

Inside the lint trap, there lurks a grizzled goblin, who munches on an occasional sock. He pines for the days he was a crafty farm goblin what stole eggs. But the suburbs came,

and so did Crocs and sandals. The goblin knew he'd starve unless he tried new things. Hoping to acquire a taste for the undead, he went ghoul-hunting; he used his Peterson Pipe as

to send smoke signals to the undead, where he would lure them in by passing a a recently deceased lady-ghoul. Truthfully, the goblin preferred the taste of pigeon, but ever since

he'd eaten some drow minge he'd changed his mind completely. I shied away from the goblin, as his uncouth manner of speaking was far too crude for my sensibilities. The bathroom

was a mess because he was a goblin. There were hard water stains and lime deposits streaking down the bowl. The Timeless Wizard had given me the DD7 staff of power so which

My famous sibling was. Drats and rats to those 8 malcontents who so thoroughly screwed with my dream. All I wanted was a family sane and intact unlike those silly

sitcom families. But here we are. My sister Tabatha had locked the keys in the car and there was no way we were getting home from Applebees without having to call my dad, the dumb

er and dumber star Jim Carey who had long since given up answering the phone due to fan harassment. So my sister Tabatha and I were stuck here with only a wet St. Bernard for

company. We played fetch but Tabitha's hands were soon dripping with doggy drool. She let the St. Bernard have the ball & said, "Alllriiighty then, you win!" Every dog has its day.