For dinner tonight, I'll start with a single

For dinner tonight, I'll start with a single pea. It will be buttered and slipped into the center of a scallop, which will then replace the yolk in a hard-boiled egg. The egg will

replace the eye of a succulent pig marinated in noilly prat. The pig will be baked in a dutch oven saturated with the fumes of

taxpayer base through deficit spending. This was a meal that Lance Portslpadder could really eat the hell out of in a white tank top. He grabbed a fork

in the project and started coding the problem away. Deficit spending and the taxpayer base were like Caster & Pollox, the twin sons of Leda; too intertwined to be parted but with

an Allen wrench and a whole tub of elbow grease, I'm confident we can untangle them. I mean, my real job's a plumber, but this was my afternoon off. Also I was a bear. Growl.

So instead of untangling them, I took off into the Hundred Acre Wood to find a nice pot of honey for lunch. That was the day I lost my job as head plumber and had to resort to

selling my bare bear bottom at the Hundred Acre Wood House of Ill Repute. “I’ve found the honeypot,” cried Donald, a fat man with an orange face and pee-stained cotton candy hair.

"It was in her emails after all!" Donald shouted. Piglet stared, puzzled at the fat man with his orange face. Pooh sighed and Eeyore sat down ready to cry again. It was time, they

agreed. Kanga brought the big red button and set it in front of Christopher Robin. "Farewell, Pooh." A brilliant flash was the last thing anyone in the Thousand Acre Wood ever saw.