"The babysitter isn't dead,"I told myself

"The babysitter isn't dead,"I told myself as I ate my illegal bowl of vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup, "she's sleeping". I watched I Love Lucy and picked lint off the couch.

I always loved "I Love Lucy", somehow taking comfort in the not-so-subtly misogynistic nature of the program. And, I may have been overzealous with that (now dead?) babysitter...

who was marinating in 12 separate bags in Calypso brine with Papaya Pepper rub. I've been eating human flesh for a long time and watching black and white reruns. It's sort of my

thing, eating human flesh is like eating God. As a child I grew tired of eating cucumbers by slowly swallowing them whole. I became the talk of the town especially down by the old

water-cooler. Sometimes I poured in Ipecac for shits and giggles-mostly giggles. Still, my fondest memories were of sitting on the back porch with gramps blasting passing dogs with

the four humours. That's how we referred to the different gases we produced. With Gramps ayurvedic diet and our curative flatulence we were able to treat many ailments. Countryfolk

flocked from miles around to be cured by our fannyclappers and SBDs. Most of the typical cancers and aging symptoms were easily handled but one day a man came seeking therapy for

a stubborn verruca on his left big toe. I brought out our sturdiest brass fanny clapper and positioned it over the verruca. Then the sprite spread on a generous helping of SBD

.Thank God for the Small Business Development Center. They taught me all about how to sell my brass fanny clappers on eBay. Apparently a lot of people suffer from verrucalitis.