Don't piss old St. Nick off this year let

  • Don't piss old St. Nick off this year let me tell ya! The North Pole is not immune to a recession! I heard that if you're on the "naughty" list this year that he's going to
  • send an elf to repossess toys from last year. Half of them are laying under the bed, so most kids won't even notice. Those that do get deneuralized by defective Men in Black
  • thus propagating "monster-under-the-bed" hallucinations that lead to psychotherapy by age 30. If their delicate memories are somehow left intact, the children
  • of the corn will rise again and extend their extermination of adults into neighboring towns. I am the Jane Goodall of these children. I don't want to stop them, I want to study
  • their behavior here in suburbia. The strange thing is, they acted as if they didn't care that I was watching, as if they accepted me as one of their own. Maybe I was.
  • I drew a soaped up sponge over the sleek hood of my car, leaving a swoosh of bubbles, but my eyes never left the slice of backyard life I could see through the fence. Smoke from
  • the barbecue licked the nipples of the hairy, bare-chested rotund insurance salesman. While I was waxing on and off on the hood of my late model Pontiac Grand Am, the aroma from
  • the roasting human sacrifice filled the air. One thing for sure, Paul Prudhomme would feed dozens of cannibal party guests. In his honor, his corpse was dusted with file powder
  • and LSD. Yup, the party was about to begin... They called this, 'death tripping' and it had been a popular party game for years. Once Pilar returned to the room Tomas begged for
  • a potato chip as I had been anxiously eating them waiting for the party to now end as it has been several hours and I would've liked to go to sleep. About an hour later it was done


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