Saint Elmo never heard music this good. As

Saint Elmo never heard music this good. As the fog descended on the harbor, the lighthouse swirled from the east jetty and caught a glimpse of the dark figures by the moorings of

Jabber Jaws a good time? He was such a fun shark. Maybe he'd appear out of the fog and start jamming on the drums. Once during the excitement of Buddy Rich tune he ate half

his drumset with a delightful glassmunching crunch. When he opened his mouth to show that he'd swallowed the ride cymbal, floor tom and bass drum the crowd went wild.

It was going to be more impressive coming out but no one would pay for that particular view. The Sound was a combination Clang and Splash depending on the size of the toilet seat.

Unfortunately though he had to hurry, because someone was knocking on the stall door. (Drat,) he thought to himself, (Someone's interrupting my fetishistic alone time.)

While his somewhat feeble mind was grinding through the silent pronunciation of "fetishistic" the stall-knocker grew impatient and

made a tiny fist with two of his fingers, punching a haphazard glory hole through the stall. In response to the stall-knocker's forwardness, he stuck his foot underneath and tapped

a message in Morse Code. Awkward silence filled the toilet stall. His friend clearly did not know Morse. He moved his head down to the glory hole and peered into it. He saw

a small deer and a rabbit and a little ducky by a flowing river. It was a beautiful land far away from the preverted stalls of the Minneapolis airport. He wished he was there.