"How is she?" - "Nothing new. Coma isn't

"How is she?" - "Nothing new. Coma isn't much to look at, you know." I stand beside the bed and stare at her calm, peaceful face. "Can she her me?" "Unlikely. Brain activity is

about what you'd expect from a rutabaga. I'm sorry, I know you had such high hopes but I think with time, and prayer, you'll come to see that

rutabaga's make lousy hats. you seldom find anyone wearing a rutabaga hats these days. I suspect they were never popular hats but you never can tell. With enough cannabis anything

is possible, everything is interesting, but nothing gets done. Now Carmen Miranda sure knew about hats. No veg, just fresh tropical fruit. I took another toke and

slammed her head into the Vitamix. I blended Carmen Miranda's fruit hat and heavily made up face into a thick smoothie and served it to the housewives in my neighborhood, they

were always competing with one another for the most original spiked punch. "Fruity yet Fleshy" commented Madge in her driest southern drawl. Little did she know how on the mark she

almost was. If I could have found the flesh fresh, I would have added it to the concoction. The butcher only had frozen that day. I was too proud to use

generic midget. I needed the SPECIAL stuff. You know like the kind they use to make those dingbats on the lower east side next to Mama's Playhouse and Wash-a-teria. What in the

A single tear dripped down my face as a symphony of bullets ripped through those poor creatures that really only wanted love, in the end.