Brad loved Hallowe'en now even more than

Brad loved Hallowe'en now even more than he did as a kid. But somehow the bloody hand prints on the house and the big black pentagram and candles in the driveway disturbed his n

-erf sniping with the sinister winds they conjured. Hunting Trick-or-Treaters with foam tranquilizers was tradition. He couldn't settle for Wal*Mart goat's blood again, after Satan

fooled him into buying cheap ketchup and pouring it all over himself. It wasn't so much the sticky red condiment, or even the ants. He would never understand why a bear wanted to

Polka in the moonlight while the ducks and possums were ripping hardcore accordion solos. Suddenly the sticky red condiment known as ketchup seemed pretty rock n' roll.

But Mustard that was punk rock. Then someone brought Ponzu sauce with was Dub-step. Then someone whipped a huge vat of honey mustard which was positively

rancid with Disco. Even Donna Summers gagged. Fizzuzu the Dybbuk of Indigestion smiled - his plan to poison all the musical condiments was working flawlessly. If only he could

prepared. "Ready, Ready...We're Rocksteady!" they chanted. The fans screamed, pulled their hair out, and fainted. Busta Move, the breakdance mogul, nodded at Fizzuzzu the Dybbuk

with satisfaction. "Our plan is working as planned!" exclaimed the villainous Busta Move. Busta and Fizzuzzu the Dybbuk shared a laugh, interrupted by Agent Michael Scarn's bazooka

Busta & Fizzuzzu the Dybbuk thought that their time working in an office was a lonnnng, LONNNNNNNG time ago. At least Fizzuzzu was still on the air, after this debacle. Busta died.