After the accident, he was able to taste

After the accident, he was able to taste music. The Overture from the Flying Dutchman was lime jello. Motorhead's Ace of Spades, burnt grilled cheese.

His wife caught him tasting Vivaldi's Four Seasons. "Honey, the doctor said no fine wine," she implored. "Why not try Nickelback? It's substance-free and tastes like Pop Rocks."

And that's when he stuck his wife's face into the scalding hot bamboo steamer. "This is the last time you take all the covers at night." She grabbed the pasta scoop and

slotted his 100% all beef thermometer. "I'm not taking any beef from a man with limp linguine for a weeny". That was the last straw for Thin Jim.

"I do not have a limp linguine for a weeny!" Thin Jim screamed. He snapped the beef thermometer in half and threw it away. "I'll show you what happens when you mess with me

" Thin Jim tore off his trousers and out spilled a river of fettuccine, parpadelle, gnocchi, bigoli, scialatelli, mezzelune, fregula, conchigliette and stringozzi. Gasps

filled the room until a cry of "Look at the size of those meatballs!" caused a near riot of hungry Italian debutantes to swarm upon poor trouserless Thin Jim. One bonny young lass

in particular caught Thin Jim's eye. She, unlike the others, had no interest in his meatballs nor his Italian balogna for that matter. She wanted him for an entirely different reas

on. It puzzled him, indeed, for each fair girl before had fallen under his "spell". It intrigued him, but she stayed mum- no descent vampire would admit... and neither would she.