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It started in a small town in Wisconsin-

  • It started in a small town in Wisconsin- the dread Samsa virus, named after patient zero, a dairy farmer who woke one morning to find he was a

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  • ctually unable to milk Bessy with the pincers which had sprouted from his sides. "That's odd said Sam Za." scratching his carapace. His cow contracted Samsa virus & infected

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  • the rest of the herd, which grew antennae and pincers. "So much for milking," Sam said and stopped. Mrs Za shrieked at the sight. "Don't scratch your carapace in public!"

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  • "Sorry Ma'am, it was itchy." I continued scratch but it didn't help. I had no choice but to rub my back against her blouse, her buttons really helped. Mrs Za seemed bewildered as

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  • rubbed my back against her frock. Mrs. Za stepped back and I fell over. "Pardon my being forward, but rayon always does the trick with my itchy condition." When she sprayed the

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  • mace in my face, I got it- she wants me out of her personal space. So I thrust my head in her lap, groaning: "My eyes... I'm blind!" and furiously swiveled my neck left and right.

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  • She took the mace and smashed it into my face again. "Ouch," I said. I quickly sprang away from her lap and said "OK OK! You can have your personal space."

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  • That was the last time we spoke. I have plasticene flowers where she once stood and said she could read my mind. I said that was statistically impossible, given the lack of kiosks.

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  • Where would you be able to find a lamb gyro kiosk in this small Mexican city? It just didn't make sense.

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  • Meanwhile, just a few blocks away, in a small kiosk, a lamb was gyrating wildly to brazen music. Around her the rams drank and bleated and stuffed sheep money in her g-string.

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1 Comments

  1. SlimWhitman Sep 25 2016 @ 12:56

    Sheep money.

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