"No, seriously, I can't believe it's not

"No, seriously, I can't believe it's not butter!" I said, scooping another dollop onto my slice of bread. Stephanie rolled her eyes. "That's because it's not," she sighed.

"It's whale blubber, which the Japanese and Norwegians claim is a 'sustainable resource." I was surprised at how relevant to current events this breakfast was. Stephanie then

bent over the table, exposing her righteous coconut bangers, and seductively whispered "you're about to splatter your Cheerio's."

And I did, those Cheerios splattered SO HARD all over her "coconut bangers" I screamed in embarrasment, but she just had this wierd look frozen on her face, so I tried to

thaw her face out on 50% power in the microwave. I put one of those shiny cardboard things from a hotpocket under her face to crisp it up a little, but then

the center remained cold as ice despite several minutes of meticulous microwavery. So as her forehead and chin received 2nd-degree burns, her nose stayed ghost-pale. Improvising, I

grabbed my butane mini-torch that I usually used to caramelize the top of my famous creme brulee and bruleed her nose to a beautiful golden brown. I stepped back and admired

my handiwork. DIY plastic surgery was a piece of cake. The things you could with liquid nails, caulk and a Home Depot account. Pinch the skin back with a few staples and Viola!

The business boomed especially during the Halloween Holiday season when I could have up to eight appointments scheduled back to back. My nail gun and rubber cement gave clients the

specific warming up which they truly deserved, and while this didn't make the authorities very happy, I have now reached my 25th record mistrial on the ground of incontinence. Fin.