The Sunday happend all at once. It was so fast and unexpected that we felt overwhelmingly bemused in a pepperchini sort of way.

Abnormal Sunday

It started out as what could be considered a normal Sunday. The world was content. They were all satisfied, in their semiconfusional sort of canine ways. There weren't any vaginal flowings. The particular glands that were at work were not visible. Only the surface mattered. The quasi-conductular glands of the human shadow. Everyone had the symptoms. It was a plague of all proportions. There were pestilences. There were starvings. There were perpendicular rantings at a republic that didn't exist except in a small and similarly very ignorant troll who had gingivitis and a knack for loving on his left small toenail. There were not any of the horrid ranking silver clods that you would normally think there would be in a situation such as this. Why were these taste buds malfunctioning in such a way? We were not amused. There was much suffering going on. The breast plates were not on their wielders. The combatants had left the armory entirely. Everyone had gone apeshit. What were they THINKING? They had gone mad. The place was in an uproar. The people were crying. The children were waving sparklers in the air like so. **narrator makes wavy wavy motion** The world was not at peace. There was gravy. The mustard was flowing from the hills. There weren't any mice screaming for seclusion now, no sir. No siree not. These mice were in the depths of eptitude. The foul beasts had gone astray of what sanity they had left. They had become one of the herd. Excellent members of the clan we now know as the rodents feet. We want to be rid of them, yes. But they will not go away. The only way out, is to bargain with them. We must let the mice take over. They must have little wheels on which to run, and they must have water bottles to drink from. They must also have fresh litter every few days and they want some little ladders and tubes to climb in. They also want their own cable tv. with all of the movie channels, and the porn channels and payperview all included. In one easy installment of 19.95 mouse money. Thats not to much to ask for now is it bitches? We just want the mouse to have money. We're not asking for your luxury here. We want full installed payments to the mouse. It's in need. We don't want to have to make you. Don't make us pull out the powdered donuts. We don't want to have to use them. Now then, where were we... Oh yes, the cream cheese waffle souffle. I wanted one when I was a child, I remember. There were many children that wanted one. It turned out that one of the apples they were selling at barnabys was a bad one, it had a large worm planted in it. Well, I won a contest. I got to have my own cream cheese waffle souffle just the way I liked it. With ham. And bacon. And lots of Caramel. Joint mustard and ketchup. The little grainy stuff you put on pizza or salad. Those little relisches you can order in your custard. That sort of stuff. And maybe a peppermint for a bit of raw flavor, with some betacarotine. I like my betacarotine. I'm a regular hum-dinger. There's no truth about it. I'm not a false becomer of large liver warts. The things I discuss with you are on a very private lending. The lending of a frog from one man to another small fleece. The place we belong is in rapturated solitudal prosperance of chicken and baked beans. I feel sedated. Like a large liver tuna. Please, give me an aid to my suffering. Donate a dollar. I feel very much like a child now, in a hamburger sort of way. The little people are coming to give hansel and gretel a talking to, for littering all of those bread crumbs. I think I'll get inside, before it all goes down. Good bye then. Good buy to the molecules. And the prosperous makeshift car tools that don't really do anything. Good bye antelopes. And orangotangs. And small bermuda gull swallops. I shall miss you always. Goodbye!....

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