Bugs in the Bugspray

An angry cloud of gnats shoots out of the nozzle when the button is pressed. Examining the can more closely shows a dial on the bottom where the can is concave. The dial has labels for gnat (the dot on the dial is here), dust mite, fruit fly, housefly, black widow, radioactive tarantula, AIDS-III-carrying mosquito, and giant man-eating cockroach.

Exposure of this can to heat is contra-indicated.

All the Live Long Day

Everyone goes to the amber well to fill their buckets with the sweet sweet glop at the bottom of the polyester-lined tunnel. It oozes and tickles around the sides of the buckets, leaving an oh-so-fresh odor upon the gasoline gnats that liftoff nearby.

When the amber gets poured on hot concrete griddles, then the real fun begins!

Killer Chipmunks from Seattle

They only look as if they're flirting with turnips, but beware! Sticking your tongue out at these carriers of bionic rabies will let them know that the jig is up, the market is down, and the baseball is flat. They will wiggle at you in a most menacing manner, they will exfoliate, prognosticate, and then they will slice your ever-so-fragile elephant mandibles right off!

Ignoring them will buy you some time. Flirt with the turnips, yourself; it'll confuse them and make them gibber out the table of contents of the encyclopedia you've got stashed beneath your little toe. Once they're all frothing at the eyeballs, open up a can of Dr. T. Philius Barker's Patented Olde-Fashioned Light-Bulb Fluid & Wallpaper Repellant™.

That'll learn 'em.

Chaos, Chaos, Everywhere, and Everyone's Here to Meet

The committee can't come to a decision due to all of the incoming fire from the secretary's office three doors down. The fire turns bright green upon impact, leaving unsightly rashes on delicate porcelain. The rest of the furniture can't stand the commotion, so they play hop-scotch on the ceiling to calm themselves down. The committee members have to use jewel-encrusted bubble-wrap to shield themselves, and the midnight sun just won't stop screaming about the iguanas.

Crunchy

Olive oil tastes crunchy when it's been left in the knapsack for too long. Motor oil will cut the jealous aftertaste; just make sure that the fence doesn't blow up from the rock lights shining on it through the chicken-wire.

Bon apetit!

Editing tastes better with butter.

Chomping on syllables leaves a faint aftertaste of mint and fermented hilarity in one's mouth. Better wash that off with some titanium water before going to the cave to find the Muse. She's not very friendly, at times; especially when her hair gets tangled in the lightning drafts left by the ancient librarians. Bring a ceiling fan.

Spitting out those syllables will make them collect in a lump in a corner of the attic. There, they'll rearrange into a manuscript that looks like a cross between Linear B and the boring parts of Eleanor Roosevelt's diaries. It will wait at the peripheries of your hair extensions, looking for the opportune moment; the moment to strike. When that time comes, it will pounce on your guests, mess up your hairball collection, defile your tastefully decorated portraits of Alan Greenspan. Oh, the humanity! Oh, the embarrasment!

The Different Types of Water Buffalo

There are four different kinds of water buffalo:

There's the kind that you find beneath rocks at the bottom of the dollar bin of your friendly neighborhood static dealer.

The second kind of water buffalo is the kind that clogs the filters of your pipes and produce such awful messes in airplane lavatories (these are not to be confused with bed buffalo, that make the mattresses lumpy).

The third kind of water buffalo pop up when you sneeze in an elevator, but only when the elevator is descending over the site where a unicorn barfed during a day of the week that has the letter 'r' in it.

The fourth kind of water buffalo is top-secret. I'm taking that knowledge with me to grave, buster. You can't be too careful about what you say.