Spam Baby needed to break out of this daycare,

Spam Baby needed to break out of this daycare, and fast. He shook his rattle to alert L'enfant Sausage, who was nibbling on a wean pocket. The two tykes battered down the baby gate

to his old tricks, substituting just about every inanimate object he could find with Folger's Crystals, just to see who'd notice the difference. That creepy little doll scared

my creepy little sister. Man do I like scaring her. Having a creeper sister is like having and evil dog because

they both eat crap on purpose so they fart deadly fumes in their sleep. The difference, of course, is that my dog smells better because my sister is too busy watching me to shower.

Our entire family is sick, I tell ya. And we STINK...my gawd, do we stink! Dr. Phil, I'm beggin' you, puh-leeeze do something here...anything! Otherwise, how am I ever gonna

have to change my name to Zombo Miliwata. I looked deep into Dr Phil's eyes but it was too late. He'd slipped into a coma. I will apply to change my name and move to

the Netherlands where those like me are still treated like dirt. As a golem, or gollum as some would have it, dirt is precisely how we wish to be treated. Dr. Phil understood this,

he held my hand and asked me if I'd like a dirt sandwich. I nodded, a tear trickling down my nose. Dr Phil hunkered down by my side. "I want you to repeat after me: 'I'm a gollum &

no amount of showering will help.'" And it was four years later I realized I could sell my memoirs under the title, "A Rose By Any Other Name."