One smart fella and he felt smart. Two smart

One smart fella and he felt smart. Two smart fellas and they felt smart. Three smart fellas and they all felt smart.

The three smart-feeling smart fellas met a fourth smart fella who felt dumb. So they left him alone while he wanted to try everything. The former three smart fellas thought they

had cornered the market in pocket protectors but the forth smart fella had something up his sleeve. The original three smart fellas produced only clear plastic pocket protectors

befuddle their purposes. This led to the fifth smart fella covering his pocket protector with weasel-skin embossed with anti-Moldovian runes and curses. This act of clear thinking

was a holy gesture meant to invoke the Most Brilliant Nerd. Then the Nerd Bishop comes forward with his Fly of Virginity down and light the Candle of Social Awkwardness.

The Electric Monks were eager to open the boxes. They smelled of lavendar. BOOM! They opened themselves. The knives were retracted. Being Chinese made they were cheap and flimsy.

"Cheap and flimsy maybe but in this case quite effective. Drop all of your weapons and I might let you die alone", said the Program. I didn't intend on getting sandboxed anytime so

-on, but I didn't want to die alone, so I dropped to one knee and asked the Program to marry me. It agreed, and after eloping, we settled down in a little yurt in Yugoslavia.

The towns people were very welcoming. All, except one man, who insulted us, calling us Mr. and Mrs. Pac-Man. But the dirty bomb we were building would put an end to harsh words.