I guess I'm cranky because of my melting

I guess I'm cranky because of my melting popsicle syndrome and the fact that it has rained every day and night for the past two freaking weeks! No wonder why my Anaconda is asleep!

My sleeping anaconda was dreaming about the wanderings of Wanda of Tonawanga in the Fonda de Belongnese bodega on Wonder Way next to the Wonder Bread Thrift Store. The rain's pitte

r patter mattered when my anaconda woke & battered back the tattered fatted calf he'd saved for Wanda of Tonawanga. I wanted him to put an easy squeeze on my sleazy tease Lisa, who

fought tots who rot lots. But the anaconda was more interested in the mamba (or was it the samba) music pouring out of the Honda over yonder. Lisa would

and should know she was the next folder. "Don't let the tale get too much older; it may molder." Lisa shrugged her shoulders and gave me a look that smouldered.

Lisa wrote a rhyme-less fold explaining she couldn't rhyme due to an unfortunate accident involving a grocery cart, but that's not the way the game is played so the folding story

-land people (being open-minded) decided to accept haiku and free-verse as poetry, as long as they were folded into origami afterward. When paper cranes littered the streets, they

Were scattered using paper dirigibles and divided into groups of otherworldly creatures. The paper universe was penetrated by gamma rays incessantly and imploded on itself.

“Holy Origami!” exclaimed Diaper Boy, whipping his head around to see all the paper objects flying. His only hope to neutralize them was to start folding: paper rockets, paper jets

and paper cranes were among his skill set. Diaper Boy's fingers flew across the paper, creasing and smoothing and folding like nobody's business. Then at long last, the paper fell.