"Where's the remote?" she asked dully, right

"Where's the remote?" she asked dully, right at the end of the 4th quarter. I glared at her, but extended my retractable arm to change the channel. I had to obey.

She adds bromide to my tea which chemically reacts in my amygdala to produce involuntary responses in my remote control arm whenever she barks a command. I try to hide my teacup bu

t she barked and my remote controlled arm made me slap myself. She just stood there looking at me, panting. I said, "No, no. Millie, that's a bad dog." Bark! Slap! Millie jumped up

and continued barking,meaning I continued(unwillingly,mind you)slapping myself.Since Milly had swallowed the remote tomy metallic arm,if I got her to vomit,the slapping could cease

and this would have worked, but for the Giant Slapping hand of Allah, which reached down and continued to slap me long after the metallic arm had been deactivated. Now I had to

change my identity: get out my blue wig, nerdy red glasses, and my fat suit--you know, the one that makes me look like I weigh 600 kilos--and make the Giant Slapping hand of Allah

shake the hand of Mr. Hand. My oversized impersonation of Milhouse Van Houten brought all the geeks to the yard, and they're like, "It's better than Marge."

Mr. Hand and his cousin, Mr. Invisible Hand, served tea and crumpets. The moose heads on the wall were all made by Milhouse Van Houten when he was a taxidermist. Marge was absent.

Well...not really...Marge was there, hidden behind Mr. Invisible Hand. One of Milhouse Van Houten's prized moose heads--the one he stole from the Nixon Museum--was missing.