I very much remember you from the 1980s.

Can I ask you this now? What was the deal with the mustache? Was it drugs or just the zeitgeist? Now that we have reconnected, I feel

like there are so many things I want to ask you Frank." After Elvis & Bono, Oprah got the Medium to channel Zappa. When she asked him what a chromium cob was

he pulled down his pants and showed her. The audience all ran for the exit and the Medium came to with his pants around his ankles and Oprah

cocked George Zimmer's head back, and cleared his throat of debris. Oprah put her mouth over his and exhaled life-giving burger breath in his chest. Then she put all her weight

upon his already brittle legs. He collapsed like a picnic chair in a tornado, trapped between the horrid shag carpeting and Oprah Winfrey's naked body.

He gasped. "Get off m-" but his voice was smothered by the mounds of rolling flesh covering him. He realized that she was slowly crushing him. He heard 3 of his right ribs break.

"My real name is Trimba Trumbundo!", he screamed, slowly being crushed by the festering mass. If only now he had the help of his fellow African warlords!

"Your voodoo is useless here, Trimba!" the witch doctor cackled, his necklace of shrunken heads knocking together with a haunting wooden sound. "We will have your liver!"

The fat duck shuddered, knowing that in meeting a Houdoun gourmand, his fate had surely been sealed. At least, Trimba rationalized, he would be delicious.