It all started when Lucy kissed Jermaine.

It all started when Lucy kissed Jermaine.

But Jermaine was not germane to the Germans; in fact, she was a geriatric gerontophobe from Jerusalem, wearing a jersey made of gerbil jerky.

Just joking, jesting, jumping for joy about our journey. Kidding aside, Kelly kept keeled over. Later I learned

many more made musings mentioning my murder. Needling my noggin, I noticed not nestled nearby

was Walton, when waves of whispers whipped by. "Signs say someone sees Satan," I heard, harassed by the hooligans that haunted my house. "Ghosts are gay," I announced to anybody

who was listening. It turned out that my fourth-grade English teacher was listening intently, and commented under her breath, "If your alliterations were any more obvious, I would

grab you by your ankles and swing you around in circles until your head filled with so much pressure that all those blatant alliterations were forced from your skull." Frowning, I

returned to my homework. The tutorbot™ was being especially cruel today. I'm not sure what was wrong with "Peter Pecker piped plankton" but it thought is lacked a certain

Hemingway quality. I tried again: "Piped plankton. Peter. Pecker. Perfect." The tutorbot™ sneered mechanically, but my shackles were released and fresh gruel filled my bowl.