As I ground on her lap I wondered what I'd

As I ground on her lap I wondered what I'd eat for breakfast when I got home. Maybe eggs. I got up & shook it in her face. Her friends screamed & rained dead presidents down on us.

Dead presidential rain is the worse sort - it's insidious & gets in your bones. "Shut it!" I said to her friends quite rudely while boiling a swans egg. My egg cup was too small so

I used one of Buster Gonad's drink hankies. The royal swans egg acquired a delectable sulfurous tang. I vowed to repeat this breakfast, but the missing egg was in the evening news

:"BREAKING NEWS! A spokesperson for Queen Elizabeth reports that the very last royal swan's egg was stolen from the Tower of London last night.Fowl play is suspected." Buster Gonad

tossed the script aside. "For this I trained at Julliard? I will be in my trailer." Buster Gonad, voice-over God, was on the down slope of his checkered career. He poured a fifth

of gin into his teacup & waited for the expected reaction.There was nothing Buster Gonad enjoyed more than generating drama. A knock at the door of his trailer. "Enter!" he rasped.

Buster was jumped by doctor, pinned down by the nurse, brassknuckled by the lady with the alligator purse who took his six gun and said, "I see London, I see France, I see Buster's

-gasp-magic underpants?!" Titters tore through the room. Buster squirmed under the weight of the hefty nurse and said, "Mama always said, 'It's what's inside that matters most.'"

Milkmi didn't understand what Buster meant, and Titters chittered rudely to herself. Chester simply rolled his eyes and continued to watch the boob tube as awkward silence rose.