Small, round, fragrant when cut. Not just

Small, round, fragrant when cut. Not just an unripe lemon. A military weapon. A tantric tonic against evil. Skin exposed to the juice and then sun can develop phytophotodermatitis.

It was brilliant...an effective military tactic, but still environmentally friendly. We launched lemons at the enemy, watching cutaneous phototoxic inflammatory eruptions bubble up

like greasy pepperoni slices at a Little Caesar's. But the enemy took the lemons and made lemonade which they sipped old timey style before their counterattack.

Their greasy pepperoni smelling hands threw many sausage rolls at us. Undoubtedly, the attack was delicious, but not very effective. The enemy plotted the next steps, whilst sippin

some some soda. I was surprised: I knew that the battle was going to be tough, but not to this degree. Sighing, I took out my own weapon-this was going to be tough.

But with my snapper sniper waveband gun in hand I charged the large Alien Jello complex, constructed of a supreme being mold. The men followed close behind me cracking off shots of

With possibilities of mood changes. Madame Peignoir was staying at Fawlty Towers year round and brought Basil mussels found at the beach. She avoided the nudist section, fenced off

by the Major's personal stash of concertina wire for which Basil had somehow never gotten around to paying him for as promised. Madame Peignoir's petticoats somehow found their way

down around her ankles, but the Major had eaten a heavy meal of duck sautéed in lard, and the blue pill didn't kick in until a week later when the Major was addressing the troups