"Fiddlesticks!" said Bob, reaching for the

"Fiddlesticks!" said Bob, reaching for the medical kit. He had just slammed a nail into the palm of his hand while trying to do 'his own handiwork' as Susan had suggested.

But since going to PTA meetings, Bob had started sprouting hair all over & developing strong views on football. Only a real man could survive in the testosterone crucible of PTA me

etings. Now that bob was covered in hair with testosterone pumping through his veins, the mom's and aging women were starting to look good. He was going to be the Alpha Male

at the "Friends of the Library" club, for sure. Every 1st Monday of the month when he'd stroll into the library, his long hair waving behind him, he would scope out the cougars in

search for a girlfriend. This was the only reason why he was visiting the library - he was sure he can find his soulmate here. This time he was about to have a pleasant surprise...

Instead of hanging out in the 100s near occultism, to try and pick up bookish goth chicks, he hung out around 770 in photography. An elderly woman asked if he'd ever modeled

with plasticene before, but the way the old lady said it made him panic. No magicians nearby at 798.3, some people in the 600s but they were all interested in self-help. He backed

away confused. Was this the Dewey Decimal System or Universal Decimal Classification? He fell through 539.120.226 space-time symmetries, right into the now left handed old lady.

Then he died. Everybody attended his funeral, including the now left handed old lady. His death led to World War LXVII, which was won by Paraguai. But that's another story.