The Bradbury was a little Bakelite device

The Bradbury was a little Bakelite device you could order online for about $49 dollars, that you plugged into a standard household socket just like you would a night-light. It glow

ered at you from on high, crushing your eternal spirit, decimating your soul and taking one-tenth of it for itself. Some times it would speak, and when it did,

black spittel would spray from its gingivitis soaked teeth while his eyes sparkled with malice. Wishing the remaining portion of your soul would just cease to exist, it looks you

don't have any other choice but to sacrifice your last possession - your precious ukulele. You look at it, play the F chord for the last time, and throw it into the monster's jaw.

"Ugh", you groan, as the monster swallows the ukelele whole. "I guess I'll have to take up the penny whistle", you think to yourself, "or maybe the hurdy-gurdy!" The monster began

belting out Elvis classics and out of nowhere a beach setting tumbled into place,be-bikinied babes and beachballs all. The monster gargled out yet more classics. You shuck and

suddenly I was in a church. "..and God knows he didn't buy a green Mercedes to sit behind a bicycle all day! Amen." The vicar announced. The monster gargled on. You shuck and

f*ck do you think you're doing?!!!" I yelled instinctively, momentarily more concerned about the loogie glistening near the gas pedal. Taken aback at my outburst, the monster

seized his opportunity, as he got in my car, shut the door, and drove away. As he drove away, he removed his mask, and I then realized I had been car jacked