"Listen to this, you old motherfucker!",

"Listen to this, you old motherfucker!", John yelled at to the officer. "I built all those goddamn bombs myself! I fixed them up and fine tuned them, fine tuned them for everything

to be complete! You can't just come around and take these bombs from me!" John remained angry, but the officer ignored everything he was saying. "Hand them over," the officer said.

John felt like crying. They were his, and now this man in the blue suit and funny hat wanted them! John broke into a run, his curtain-turned-cape flapping in the breeze as he

leaped into the man's car and sped away, away, awwwaaaay from him. What's this? He pushed a button and blue lights began flashing and a reaaallly loud siren started up. He'd esc

-orted a hooker in a police car!? Could this night possibly get any stranger? He would soon regret asking that question, because just then

the most massive garbage truck he had ever seen turned the corner. No one seemed to be driving it, but a long, whip-like antenna waved wildly out of the driver's window. "Well," he

said, "I think the mushrooms are kicking in."

The room was now filled with all the actors who had ever played James Bond, and they had elected Sir Sean Connery to speak on their behalf to the mushrooms.

"My name is Bond, James Bond," intoned all the actors in unison. The mushrooms, all come over by the overwhelming James Bondness of it all, sighed and spontaneously sauteed themsel

ves, bonding with the fresh herbs, butter and egg whites to rise before taking a bow, but the theatrical production fell flat. Everyone knows souflees should be stirred not shaken.