"It's story time", said Mrs. Carbuncle, and

"It's story time", said Mrs. Carbuncle, and opened the large medical tome she always read from. All the Carbuncle children gathered around her.

They were oozing with excitement as Mrs. Carbuncle read aloud the origins of Progeria. The kids

were part of a cutting-edge study of the effects of Amphetamine-laced milk on elementary school students. At first, the kids took vigorous lecture notes. But they soon experienced

emotional disconnect. Except one who listened attentively to the dangers of drug abuse. He was me. Now I have an abusive relationship with an adulterous drug addict and no friends.

" I wrote. Satisfied for the moment, I replaced the cap on my pen and blotted the ink in the card. If that wasn't an appropriate birthday greeting, then I didn't know what was.

Which is completely plausible because I have Asperger syndrome. This means the appropriate birthday greeting is a foreign to me as

knowing what "raining cats and dogs" is supposed to mean. The SPCA ignored my 17 phone calls that lasted, on average, 31.4 seconds. Why were they not putting up safety netting so

as to cushion their landing. Later on a heavy downpour dumped double the amount, and owners were clobbered with falling pets. "The critters've really hit the fans!" I told the SPCA

The next morning the SPCA sent a truck to scoop up all of the mutilated dog and cat carcasses that were strewn across the town for miles. "Why did this happen?!" I screamed.