"To be a sandwich, or not to be a sandwich.

"To be a sandwich, or not to be a sandwich. That is the question."

Hamlet pondered this question after taking Prozac in the morning with breakfast. His black journal had one page entries with margin notes and errand lists. Today he had to go to

market and purchase honey. Two bees or not two bees, which will make more honey? Is it nobler to eat the honey of Italian bees, or to go for aggressive African bees and be stung

that is the question! Whether it is nobler to suffer the sting of outrageous fortune or oppose the bees and just reach for a jar of

Chris: "What foul treachery this? Tis' not a jar of sweet honey, but a skull." Horis: "Tis' some manner of animal. A bear perhaps?" Chris: "Alas dear Horis, Twas Pooh! I knew him!

He was like... a friend to me." Horis: "Cry not, Chris. Cry not for what he is now, but for the joy..." Chris: "Pooh Bear! Ohoho, I wail for thee!" Horis: "He's let himself go..."

They stared at where Chris had clearly #1'd on the floor. "Seize him!" thundered Macbeth. Chris grabbed a curtain fold & swung out the window, landing on Lady M instead of Tigger.

"Mmmmmm," cried Lady M while Tigger bounced out of the room. Chris slipped into a dressing room amidst all the commotion, but OOPS. He interrupted Hecate, who was

ungodly and disgustingly sophisticated. Hecate hated Tigger and his speech impediment. It wasn't "cute" not by a longshot. That's alright, Hecate would undermine him through a

-her train of thought derailed when she looked at her hands:the torches.Of course.Why make things complicated,she thought,beating him to a pulp and setting fire to his corpse.Amen.