Milk was slowly spreading across the formica.

Milk was slowly spreading across the formica. He picked up the punctured carton and looked up at the ceiling. There was a small smoking hole. Why did I rent a duplex? he wondered.

Then he remembered, he had actually bought it. "Oh shit." He said. A banging and crashing noise came from the upstairs neighbors. "That's it. I'm gonna finish this misery, and so h

found nothing but an empty room. "Odd", he thought, feeling his earlier anger ebb and his pulse return to normal. Searching for the source of the sounds, he noticed an open

air duct grating. The sounds were coming from there and it smelled of incense. He stepped on the chair and poked his head inside

the long and lanky shanks of a domestic moose that happened to be standing near the air duct. He noticed the sweet musky warmth of inner moose and felt moose juice on his scalp

. But then a goose came along and argued for moose juice's inferiority to goose juice. The moose and goose bickered for a while, only to be interrupted by a fox with a sox fetish.

"This slop of a rhyme must stop," chimed in the mime. "Indeed, this is my creed. We must proceed to succeed in speed. This is my creed." The goose agreed. The moose peed mead. Oh

Steed, what do you make of this?" "You tell me, Mrs Peel, you're the scientist after all." "Very well then,

I'll look at it more closely." The scientist took out his magnifying glass and looked at the growth on Mrs. Peel's back. "Hmmm, I've never seen one this color before," he pondered.