Why do I always want to type these phrases,

Why do I always want to type these phrases, "Don't turn around, uh-oh, Der Kommissar's in town, uh-oh? Peter asked himself as he spiked his hair.

Der Kommissar knocked on the door. "I'm baaack! Are you wearing your special trousers?" Peter's spiky hair dropped a little. "Ja baby, ich komme," he called as jauntily as he could

muster at the time. Having been mauled by German clams 3 years earlier, he would always shudder at the flashbacks whenever he spoke German. Poor Peter was not really ready for the

mussels and oysters either. In fact, Peter wouldn't ever be ready for shellfish again. Holen Sie sich die Schalentiere weg von mir! The flashbacks of the German clam mauling haunt

us all, the entire Brady family, to this day, none more than I, except perhaps Peter. Alice had an allergic reaction to shellfish and died dreadfully, of asphyxia. It was Peter who

crashed in the Lobster Swamp and was clawed to death slowly. Then there was Marcia, chewed up by babboons, and Bobby who fell off a roller coaster. Tragically, the Brady Bunch is

now a grape stem picked clean by a rhesus monkey of death. Sherwood Schwartz fumed. "Ratings are kaput. Need a new family. The Conrad Cluster, Manson Multitude, Anson Agglomeration

Or something like that." His collaborator, a dogman, rang up D. H. Lawrence for suggestions. DHL waxed poetic about the Italian families he had met in Italy. They famously argued

phrenological fads and the knick knacks they produced but were really future relics. Like the arm of Barbie or the ? of Ken. We argued about other spaces and their numerical statu

s and pursuant et cetera et cetera. But when Mao had the temerity to bring up Zen then he was suddely persona non Grata and sent down to live on a hot town with lots of dirt. Lots.