I flipped the table in disgust. "Anyone care

I flipped the table in disgust. "Anyone care to explain to me why these chicken nuggets aren't shaped like dinosaurs?" D-Hall henchmen surrounded me. I had seen past the illusion.

One of the D-Hall Henchman radioed in, "He can see, repeat he can see." It dawned on me, chicken nuggets are not salty cookies, they are meat. Meat from an animal. An animal that

is strutting down the D-Hall, apparently coming for me. "Heading your way NOW!" I hid under my desk, trashing the last of the nuggets. Moments later, the chicken entered my office

its cyborg laser eye scanning the desks for my tell-tale signature. Too late, I had been found! "I am Purdue of the Sanders Collective. We will assimilate your distinctive eleven

droid drainers without further notice." I just hate a bossy cyborg. I grabbed its particulate flange and yanked its laser eye out of its socket. Eye pocketed, I mounted my pod and

Hexafus the King was finally done sneezing when his wife got up and wanted to fold stories. Georhe and Jerry Anderson and their clan played "Little Boxes" to everyone's great joy.

Everyone except the Jester Sassafrass. He hated "Little Boxes", ever since Boxing Day when all the Kings servants and all the Kings men got a pressie. But not Sassafrass because

Sassafrass did not believe in Xmas. Yes, even for all his jester jests, Sassafrass did not really like the idea of other people enjoying themselves. He seethed with each titter

He loathed it all. Thus in a vain attempt to end Xmas. He tied a bomb to his chest, slid down the chimney of the closest house & boom! too bad the closest house was his.