And now, a short story about nothing...

The Personal Game of Fragulence

So, you may ask, what is this so-called cosmic force of which you speak? Then of course the only congruent response would  be to tell one that it is only of the mind, or of the macoroni that sits there, waiting, waiting.  This is only half true as we have learned.  This is the part where James Bojangles comes into the scene.       When Mr. Bojangles is dancing it is like the great dog star waving its magic manhandle. Slap! Across the face of the tablecloth in denial.  YOu can be  gARUNTEed that this is why your mom jumps on the table screaming "Magic banchees!"                       YYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHOOOO! Piedo flabbura majumash probabumiler  himmily flajagle-shtoo  hramil tamula freeeboo.                                            THE                                                 END