I spent the last week with my fambly in St. Louis, busting a nut of anger in my father's face, sharing a bed with my little sister, who battered me as she slumbered, who attempted a stealthy kneerape on my person and then laughed out loud, and working to deconstruct the wildly cabalistic jokes of a seven-year old. Examples:
Q: What did the hippopotamus say to the ant?
A. Hey, where are your eyes?
Q. What did the frame say to the statue?
A. Better get burpin'!
Touché, my miniature! In addition, I touched romantically on Henry Shaw
and tricked some kids. Did you know if you bury something shiny in a sandbox, a child will believe it is treasure? Because children are dumb.