I stood staring at the pile of warm, freshly

I stood staring at the pile of warm, freshly dried laundy. Won't anybody FOLD with me?

That was when the sonorous tenor upstairs was punctuated by a loud clunk. The rat king had slipped in the shower! He would be fine later, but who would fold this laundry with me!?

Clara wished then that she had married the Nutcracker instead of the Rat King. But she was attracted to the "bad boys" of the ballet. Nutcracker's tights had been a turn off and

when he slipped on a banana peel that an audience member had thrown on stage Clara knew it was love. The Rat King was a kind husband but the Nutcracker would kick her in the

swimsuit area due to an injury he suffered while touring Russia. The Nut Cracker was a liability. Clara and the Rat King told the Nut Cracker that he was fired. But the Nut Cracker

heeded them little attention. "You think I care what two puny little children think?" the Nut Cracker laughed. The Rat King folded his arms, glaring. "CHILDREN?" he cried. "How

about kitchen utensils with faces?" The Nutcracker had never been so insulted, and pirouetted himself through the floor. The Rat King leapt down after him, floor after floor.

After 32 floors, the Rat King decided this was the wrong strategy and wiffled into a airduct. The Nutcracker arrived in the basement. Brazilnuts, hazelnuts & macadamias

were everywhere, however the Rat King knew what he had to do he had been planning on doing it for three years now. His plan was to

vacation on the Stygian Riviera near the mouth of the River Lethe where he could forget all his troubles and work on his Sonata in B# for Sitar, Banjo, and Kazoo. He called it