GROG COOK MEAT! "Ah, my dear chap but have

GROG COOK MEAT! "Ah, my dear chap but have you tried this?" I took the bread and put it on a stick over the fire. The cave man looked quizzically. "This is toast." GROG LIKE TOAST!

The smell of the caramelized sugars in the toasted bread made Grog mad. He gobbled the toast and started coughing, inhaling bread crumbs. I said, "Butter, you can't eat bread

without jam." Butter slapped Grog on the back and spread jam all over the toast. Suddenly Grog felt shy. He'd never eaten toast in front of anyone before. Butter tactfully turned a

crabby crustacean over and pretended to be Al Gore dancing Macarena to Beethoven's Ode to Joy being played on a kazoo by Carl Sagan wearing S&M gear he borrowed from Ringo Starr.

But it was his own private fantasy & noone understand his dance, except Ron the bartender of Thistlenuts, the bar for wanna-be interpretative dancers from D.C.s underbelly. Ron

advised him to just continue dancing, so he promptly danced himself off the nearest cliff. Ron was blamed (or shall we say given full credit) for this sudden turn of events. He

Found himself in the mysterious evergreen forest. He ate pine cones and became healthy. He lived there happily after and met his future life partner at the Green Festival. Sangria

was their favourite drink. In fact, they drank so much they started to sweat alcohol. When they got married, everyone was asked to bring them sangria so they could forget the day.

Craving their very own, very special snacks to go with drinks, they enrolled in a butcher school. Chicken were slaughtered, as were pigs, fish, and horses--by their very own hands.

They snapped out of the trance and looked down at their hands. Blood covered. Had they done this? They writhed in agony at the thought of killing an innocent creature. It's dead.