Once upon a time in a mobile nation called
the North Pole there lived a Gtoota. The Gtoota was highly regarded and
honored throughout the many lands that sometimes fell under the North
Pole's jurisdiction because of her uncanny natural (and cultivated) soldering
abilities. This marvelous talent had a miraculous and McGyver-esque tendency
to extricate her from the most ridiculous, dauntingly dangerous, dangerously
daunting, draconian, dithrambic, dopey, dithering, didactic, dropsical,
drizzling and dowdy of situations.
Gtoota sounded her rhinestone-studded, xmas light-covered flugelhorn, signifying her intentions to impart victory upon herself. She could do this because she had recently resoldered the power cord to the lights on her extravagantly magical, boondoggelingly sparkely, tinsel-ridden, mosquito-repelling, somethingly-something flugelhorn.
|In response a
thin wail of cheers arose from a soggy nearby cardboard box with the words
"FRESH APRICOTS" emblazoned on its side. She knew this could only
mean one thing: five rabbis from Cleveland, each dressed in an easter bonnet,
matching garter belt, and a Kiss-style platform shoe/aquarium ensemble,
were about to leave the room.
"Bye," she said.
Turning to her trusty umbrella, she commanded grandly (belch): "Henceforth, go forth!" All were so stunned as to be rendered unconscious and drooling, whereupon she gathered up the much fantasized about Triskets and debarked.
The mystery of the orangutan football players and oranges remains unsolved, taunting countless open-polar-sea-believing-in explorers to their certain deaths. To this day. (the end)
love i.e. and p.k.