Private Twitch of the 3rd Pinecone Brigade

Private Twitch of the 3rd Pinecone Brigade really wanted to be down on the ground where the action was with Silvertail & Acornelius. The pitbull rounded the oak for the third time

and made another lunge for Silvertail, who deftly darted up the tree in the nick of time. The pitbull crashed into the trunk, momentarily stunned. "Goin' in," said Private Twitch.

his fate. Around him the chaos of battle seemed to smudge into a viscera of blood and soiled pants. The buldog twitched in it's death throes.

He pounded on the bulldog's chest. "Live you sonofabitch!" He pounded with both fists. Then his shoe. Then a chair. Then he picked up the TV and threw it down on the dog.

It was too late.The bulldog died. Gut wrenching sobs wracked his being. But what he didn't know was that the bulldog's spirit left its body and possessed the TV set so that anytime

there was a bacon commercial, ghostly canine saliva drenched the screen. However bacon commercials are rare, ever since the pork industry was taken over by a council of rabbis,

fruitatarians and Muslim extremists. Saying the industry didn't understand their target market was an understatement. It was always going to be an uphill job for Pushit Advertising

to understand anything as they recruited from a small village in the Urals. The workforce of Pushit Advertising spoke in dialect and the word 'fruitarian' or 'Muslim' didn't exist.

So it was a real shame when those fundies brutalized everyone with sharpened mangoes. If only we had listened to John Cleese's important course, we wouldn't be in this fix now.