G R O I D B U T T E N B E R G read the

G R O I D B U T T E N B E R G read the enormous letters he'd spray painted in phosphorescent paint onto the football field. He admired them from the bleachers. A military satelli

te was knocked out of orbit by a nosey Google satellite which read Groid Buttenberg's name hugely spelt out on the field. It also reported that the parish choir director liked men.

Yes, it was true the Parish Choir Director was an avid collector of Mr Men books. Ever since he received his first copy of Mr Tickle as a boy the Parish Choir Director had fallen

down every time someone said the word, "Flame." The Parish Choir Director once lost consciousness when there was a candle lighting ceremony for the harvest. It all started when

"I've gotta clean those freakin' gutters!" the man said. But before he could get started, another acorn landed on his head and put him out. When he woke up, he forgot again.

"Blaine, what the hell are you doing lying in a pile of acorns in the driveway when you're supposed to be cleaning the gutters!" scolded his spouse Joyce. He rubbed his head and

"I'm trying to find my book!" he finally found it. He retrieved the book. The cover said "Communist Manifesto-Gold edition" he then proceeded to

tear out every odd page until he had a nice stack of papers torn from his book in a little pile. Then he set the the pile on fire. "These papers," he explained, "were socialists."

The metaphor was lost on the crowd.