He was filling out Christmas cards. One to

He was filling out Christmas cards. One to Phil. Another to Aunt Gloria. He scribbled the usual crap. But when he read what he wrote he saw a confession for murder. For multiple

litters of hamster babies. Yes, he was a serial hamster killer, an admission that he had driven deep inside of himself in that dark place where he kept his secrets. But he could no

wrong in the eyes of his sons. When he taught them how to light matches, knowing full well they lived in tony city of wood shavings, the hamster carnage only encouraged him to buy

flaming exercise wheels, charring the well-to-do hamsters as they did their workout routines to iPad versions of Alvin and the Chipmunks. Tragic, really, especially when

her boyfriend was in PETA. Unbenownst to her, he had already reported the animal cruelty to the ASPCA, and the house was now surrounded by animal cops bent on

spaying and neutering every mammal in sight - including the humans. So, she

ran. She planned to have kids some day and wanted to do it naturally, with a man (or two - she was…adventurous). She didn't have an issue with people having their kids

cooked up in a test tube but she felt that took all the spontaneity out of it. But that meant she couldn't wait long. The day she turned 30 she looked for a man to help conceive

the baby that would later be known as Barack Hussein Obama. And not even her would remember where he was born. And so the man she chose as the father was called...