You cannot control me. I can still move my

You cannot control me. I can still move my lips. So long as I can lip sync you can't own my soul. I'll just lay here and sing "This Magic Moment," and let the tears run

as the credits roll on my life. Cutting out my tongue will do no good. As long as they can see my lips, the attack bots from division nine will know that you're AHHH!!!! Mahthipth!

Sorry, I breathed in a bug there. Nasty. Anyway, as I was saying, I

just want to tell you about my..... Jesus, is there a swarm of these around me? I'll just walk over here. There. As I was saying, I

had gone to the Mount for a few moments peace from all these demands for miracles. Make my leprosy go away. Fix my lameness. It never seems to end.

Why can't people just make their own god-damn miracles?! If they spent more time on science and less time praying, I bet they could figure out how to

turn water into whatever they pleased. If only they concentrated more at school. The formula for matter conversion was always just within their grasp but

they were usually too busy thinking about sex or food to take good notes. They brainstormed about who they could call to finish up this matter conversion experiment that was due

the next day,but knowing they wouldn't find someone to help them with that,they decided to move on to the sex and the food,and for THAT they had just the perfect person in mind:

Julia Childs. Granted she aroused the culinary sensuality more than the carnal, but that high pitched voice reminded them of the cooing of a chicken which brought them to ecstasy.