"Com'on Men! Do you want to live forever?"

"Com'on Men! Do you want to live forever?" Sarge yelled as we attacked the next pill box. I decided then that I did. I packed up my rifle and bayonet and flagged a taxi.

I told the cabbie "take the fast road to Yonkers" My uncle'd asked me to take over the reins at Colt Runabout. I fantasized this to avoid facing my frontline amputation. The nurses

all asberger syndrome so they swung all the amputees by their hair and made phantom limb

o-line dancing the biggest hit since Foot Loose. Soon, the hospitals overflowed with people who claimed to suffer from Alien limb syndrome, and insisted their feet be removed.

Luckily, a good Brazilian wax also would to the trick. The leg tremors subsided within minutes of

my defollication. It was a real rip-off though & I was disgusted to see that one particularly stubborn thatch still remained. This would not do. I got out my blow torch.

to touch a McNugget with your bare hands, and also illegal in 7 states. If only I could patent my gloves, my domination of the culinary fashion industry would be complete. Unless

the law has changed, I won't be able to patent anything while the head of the patent office is infected with a brain-destroying virus. I decide to offer my glove patent to Mars

Alien Outfitters Corp - it was perfect for keeping their 3-fingered customers hands warm in cool Outer Solar System climates. Now to invent 11 toed socks. It's all go.