It was the year 1810. He lived at the top

It was the year 1810. He lived at the top of a hill in a dilapidated house. No one went near the house because they thought a mad man lived there. Actually he was a scientist and

he carried out World changing experiments in his little, dilapidated house. He had just discovered the formula for changing cotton candy into

economical home insulation. The spun sugar was warm and cozy and smelled of raspberries. Unfortunately, a racoon family was residing in a near-by tree. His roof was

quickly digested and transformed them into a clan of warrior racoons who believed his home the giver of life. For generations they would protect his home, but for now he was cold.

Cold as the bathroom floor in a Glascow morning. Cold as an icicle in an Ice Witch's hand. Cold as a frozen juicy juice. Cold as

jacking off on a Norwegian lumberjacking trip with Jack Frost while wearing jack squat (as in, no jacket). In order to generate body heat, I was forced to shamefully

jury rig a jumping jack contraption but after juxtaposing my geriatric frame into the jumper I realized that I'd jostled loose a gelatinous Jujube that had just barely been holding

kisses. I liked older women. I was surprised when I snuck up behind the two blue hairs sitting in Row G of the darkened theatre,that they had been waiting for me."Come here, dearie

give me your pension money!" I said, as I jabbed a gun into the ribs of one of the ladies. They now knew I was serious. They had spent it all on bingo. I had no choice but to shoot