Horrible, no good, dirty-rotten, son-of-a-biscuit

Horrible, no good, dirty-rotten, son-of-a-biscuit

"Harry! That's no way to talk about our Muffy. It's not her fault she was made from a box. Not every muffin can be made from scratch!" Blueberry Harry looked down at Muffy's stump.

Muffy's stump was so hideous. Blueberry Harry turned to Chocolate Chip and whispered, "I'm about to toss my cookies."

Chocolate Chip cracked up which was fatal. Then Pop tart hopped into Blueberry Harry's cream frosting causing a second muffin to dive off the table. The dog snarfed up

everything in sight, his little brain completely incapable of comprehending the madness that had infected his brain. Perhaps that lawn fertilizer hadn't been such a good idea.

When he mixed the lawn fertiliser with diesel it created an almighty explosion which sent his brain matter splashing in all directions, even in his fish tank. His angel fish ate

the debris, blissfully unaware of its radioactive nature. There was no one there to warn the fish it would turn it into a time bomb, as its owner had been previously, so no one did

anything to prepare for the backlash of the explosion. When the bomb no one died. Instead the radioactivity made organism merge with any living thing they touched. Eventually,

h air traffic and satellite television. And lo, we were sore afraid, for on this day, true believer, the Flying Spaghetti Monster was born,