We all have our roles to play. Mine was forced

We all have our roles to play. Mine was forced on me by a cruel past; a history I did not want. They didn't have to die; at least, I didn't think so; but they had

been irritating my poor dog named Guess. The flea family jumped on Guess to innocently hitch a ride to the children's sand pit where they lived. The fleas got lost in hair forests

of Guess's shaggy pelt. The flea family saw a light between the follicles, so Papa flea went to investigate. As he approached a bald patch he saw a swollen tic. It said, "

My detachers are malfunctioning. Please do something." Papa flea did something, alright. He'd never seen such a fat tic in his life. So he started a tic circus right there on Guess

What'll Happen Next! The live studio audience loved the tick circus act, but as things sometimes turn out on that show, a crazed wildebeest stampeded through and gored

Al Gore. As Al lay bleeding, his viscera clumped outside his body like a dead dog, Al lifted his head and stared into the crowd. He opened his mouth, "I don't have much time, there

are...I must confess...the affair...atmospheric methane...me and Monica...catastrophic...eeiihhhh..." Al Gore exhaled his final CO2. Sliding her fingers into his entrails, Tipper

scooped his remains & tipped him into the compost bin. It's what he would have wanted. A few inconvenient women showed up at the Al Gore Memorial Mulching but Tipper

t of dandelion grew from the single live bouquet, sprang like a tendril into the open casket, checked to see that Al liked butter, then touched him in a bad place and wilted.