Strawberry shortcake showed up at Applebee's

Strawberry shortcake showed up at Applebee's very nervous. Her date, (eharmony) was a gentleman named "Grimace." She could identify him because he was large, purple and blobby.

He had a smile that filled half his face. "Friendly enough," thought Shortcake and ordered a Shirley. Grimace broke the ice. "I LIKE SHAKES! (and you?)" "I smell of strawberries."

When she ordered from the kids menu and colored on the linens, Grimace grew suspicious. "Are you really 18?" he asked. "This is a date, not a playdate." Nervously, Ms. Shortcake

sought for a way out. Then she suddenly slammed her hands down on the table and yelled. "Repeat it in red! Strawberry Shortcake is under 18! You can't, can you? This is checkmate!"

"I don't know if you're thinking checkers or chess." Wally Wimbles, the Bobby Fisher-equivalent when it came to checkers, stared up at the woman yelling about Strawberry Shortcake.

the lady yelled as she ripped her blouse open, "Feast your eyes on these!" Amazingly, there were actual strawberries on her nipples. She had them hung from

her ears and it made for a deliciously nipply fruit salad when paired with her casabas. I'd brought some honey, coconut shavings, and golden raisins, which I proceeded to

knead together, slowly and rhythmically....while she watched. Ah yes, Julia was no child. Nay, she above all understood the art of French cooking. We licked

the kitchen bench clean. I showed Julia my expertise at the art of cannibalism when I made her into a cake and baked her in the oven.