After I invented and mass produced my secretly

After I invented and mass produced my secretly crack-infused cookie cracker (aptly named CRACK!) I was filthy stinking rich. I started the requisite non-profit charities and such b

-s so I could advertise on Nickelodeon, with Crackle (of cereal lore) and The Kraken as spokespersons. "It's CRACK!-a-lactic," they said. But CRACK! was heavily criticized when

the FDA discovered that peanut shells and chipped bones gave CRACK! cereal its "CRACK!" A PR spokesperson stated, "Lighten up! it's non-toxic! have a bowl!"

of the sensors inside FDA-offices. If anyone mistakenly laughed a massive protest would instantly materialize outside and nobody wanted to deal with that.

Laughing was wrong. Everyone knew that, from the government to even the hipsters and capitalist. Much research was done into advanced technologies to prevent laughter. Chuck Nor

thwestern Airlines, an FBI assassin posing as a stewardess, roamed the aisle, mentally noting the seat numbers of illegal laughers. One by one, he would hunt them down and

pelt them in the back of the head with acorns. Being trained by nature's ninjas made him a particularly successful FBI agent, yet he still got bum raps working for Northwestern.

He looked again at his gun. It was old and rusty, but still had a clear shot - when the situation required it. And this is what he was counting on, next.

But then...the sudden pain. Misty red vision. Floating above...himself? Blood everywhere. Peace. Traveling quickly through a tunnel. A light. A voice: "What the hell did you do?!!"