She was beautiful. She was divine. She was

That's right, when she dies and they cut her up into strips he isn't allowed anything. Not even 100 metres. Gee he should be entitled to a mile of her because he has loved her

so much. Of course, love only counts for hand grenades and machine gun fire. If only he had been attentive as a husband. Then a light bulb clicked in his head. If he could

just open his eyes wide enough, they could use the light shining from his retinas to find a way out of this mess. Unfortunately, there came a knock on the door. It was the police

dog from the other day, still shaved bald. And he was PISSED. As soon as the door was open even a crack, he barged his way in and snapped at the guy's shining retinas, trying to

rip his eyeballs out and grind on them for a delicious treat. Shocked, the man lurched back and squealed in an annoying voice, "Gah! That is why I despite wretched bald mongrels

wearing leotards. Bald mongrels should not be admitted to the ballet, especially if they regularly nosh on ground eyeballs at brunch. Savagery, ballet savagery." It was a tough

Assignment for Margot Fonteyn 's successor. She hadn't bargained for this. The Red Knight was the director and didn't write the libretto. He was just the choreographer!

"I can't work like this," she huffed, "This choreography is too clumsy. It's like the steps were designed for someone in full armor!" "Oh, stop being a prima dona," said the knight

did a squat lance thrust leap.She tried to follow but tripped into opposing forces. "My lady, have they harmed you?" At last she was rescued from the dancing knights.