"Well pickle my poltergeist!" exclaimed Shawanda.

"Well pickle my poltergeist!" exclaimed Shawanda. "In all my years in the exorcism business I've never seen anything like this!" In the bed lay a young girl cradling a

ghost which resembled Liberace. Shawanda the Exorcist could hardly contain her Excited. "Millions" was all she could think. She called Tommy Matola, "Get down here quick!

I think someone's referencing lame old TV movies I've never seen, but I can't be sure." Tommy looked over Shawanda's shoulder & giggled. Bits of apple flew from his mouth down her

arm. "What the--? Ugh, that's nasty! Get a towel and clean that off me," Shawanda barked at him. Tommy might have been a pinball wizard, but his table manners needed work.

So thought Shawanda. But Tommy had just hocked up a meatball that had go lodged in his appendixes sidepocket. It ricocheted off her forhead leaving bolognese splotches and bounced

provocatively off of Tommy's crotch. From there the meatball fell to the floor, rolled under the Persian rug, into a mousehole & then into a heating vent, where it was discovered

-e, only to find it was a giant roach motel. The smart ones dared not set foot in the place, but most of them were persuaded by the promise of meatball heaven, so much so that the

Italians from four blocks down could smell balls of meat cooking in their own juices. Guidos came from afar and awide to get a taste of the lasagna and circus peanut concoction

. It was a frenzied orgy of fake tans and hair gel. Filthy fucking Italians. Goddamn pizzapastas. I would waste every last one of them. I picked up my gun - time to clean up.