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There's always something wrong with people.

  • There's always something wrong with people. Some people just fail to notice what it is that is strange about, say, their best friend or mom. So...what is wrong with me?

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  • I examined myself in the mirror. Well for a start I've got an extra eye. Then there's that hole below my smelling organ with a worm living in it I use to communicate with. Wierd

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  • is merely a derivative from the norm, and this was "far out." I even said as much to my reflection, the worm exuding from my facial orifice to dance as such. My extra eye spotted

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  • itself in the tall grass near the carcass of the panther's kill, apparently a gnu who should have known better to diversify his porfolio by loading up on pork bellies. The worm had

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  • Transmogrified into a demon, with sixteen legs, ten heads and 394 teeth. Monique fainted upon seeing it and was rushed to the hospital. She had a nervous breakdown on the spot, X.

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  • L. Termagro gently moved his palms above her and thought "seven". XLT had been awakened by the disturbing thought: "You will be baptized in the blood of the fallen," but Monique s

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  • -aw their images reflected in an overly-ornate mirror, and knew at once what she, Termagro, and XLT really were: Religious hand-puppets putting on a Sunday school show. Monique

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  • exposed the TRUTH to Termagro & XLT & they turned a shade of pistachio ice cream, they both barfed, they both fainted. Monique grinned & danced the Funeral Dance of the Marionettes

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  • when Alfred Hitchcock suddenly entered, in profile of course, in time with his theme music. He began his usual greeting: “Good eve-“ “Oh, SHUT UP!” interrupted Monique. “You’re so

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  • cliched! Why can't you just show everyone your face instead of staying in profile. And who's playing the theme music?" Monique had had enough. She didn't want to know the story.

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