Carstairs lit his 40th cigarette of the day,

Carstairs lit his 40th cigarette of the day, tossing the lighter back in his desk drawer. "Hey Sylvia! Get in here," he called to his secretary. "I need the Singleton file, quick."

The Singleton file was a mass of moldering tracts from his cult days. Carstairs spread them over his desk. "Man you've changed, since the Moonies."

Just then he heard "Magic Carpet" ride and the Reverend Moonie appeared floating on a golden filing cabinet. He had a wine-cooler in his hand and he said,

a huge amount of toilet paper that I had left there just in case. She yelled: "what is this? Well Moonie, it's toilet paper, you know the safety reserve!"

"You just answered your own question," Moonie muttered back to the yelling woman. "You stupid bimbo." The fresh toilet paper clogged the house. What to do? There was so much.

And yet, Moonie did nothing. Soggy toilet paper now filled every room and had begun to squeeze out of the windows - from outside, the house looked like it was vomiting toothpaste

Moonie lived up to his name as he was now plastered against the living room window w/ his pants down, trapped by the pressure of the burgeoning soggy toilet-papered house. Burstin

- as Ellen Burstyn was known in the rap community - was first on scene, & tenderly began to pick glass shards from Moonie's ass. She still felt guilty for "Wicker Man" I guess.

She just had this way of causing chaos... As she picked the last shard from the poor creature's ass she felt it neatly slice through her finger. "Oh no! I'm a haemophiliac!"