Greetings dear ones, I am Kryon of Magnetic

Greetings dear ones, I am Kryon of Magnetic Service. In the scheme of things, you are reaching the pinnacle

/7. In other vague news here at MSND, A Mr. Conrad has lost his reading glasses again and has asked his son to find them. We're rooting for you. On the South side, a dog ate fruit.

And now for the weather. Tomorrow it'll be raining. The next day it'll be raining. And on Saturday it'll be...you guessed it...raining. How much? No one cares. More vague new

spaper clippings were on the coffee table. Elliott thought this was the craziest crime scene ever. The dead gold fish were hung w/satin ribbons like mobiles all over the library.

It was like some sort of sadistic ritual to bring the dead fishies back to life! Elliott grew pale. What kind of sick person would do such a thing? That poor librarian, Mrs. Fitz,

that's who. That bastard. Elliot always had a funny feeling about librarians. He smashed a chair across her back and took the dead fishies and ran home. He would do a proper burial

at sea in his clam shaped paddle pool. Elliot read the fish their last rites and pressed play on his ghetto blaster. Van Halen's "Jump" pumped out of his stereo and a tear ran down

his face as he mournfully threw their tiny fishy bodies into the paddle pool. One of them attempted to say "Not dead yet!", but sadly, fish cannot talk. Elliot fell to his knees

, immediately regretting his actions. He tipped over the edge of the pool and opened his mouth wide. Elliot was going to eat every last fish until it killed him.