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My tummy was rumbling.

I assumed I was hungry.

I ate something.

My tummy still rumbled. So I went in there to find out what’s going on. Turns out some punks have moved in and are having excessively loud parties and smasing all the furniture. The music isn’t that great… just a lot of rumbling sounds. I’d be much more impressed if my stomach played Rachmaninoff’s Concerto #3 in C when I was hungry. I tried evicting the punks, but the body corporate were very uncooperative.

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The Fairy Tale Re-write Sessions Presents:

‘Girls in da (red) Hood’

 

A little girl, Red Riding Hood,

Was taking a walk through the wood,

To take to her gran

Milk, cookies and flan,

And all sorts of things that were good.

 

She met a big wolf on the way,

Who asked of her plans for the day,

She said “It’s my plan,

To visit my nan,

I’d like to go now, if I may.”

 

Unbeknownst to poor little Red,

The wolf then went bounding ahead,

Through Gran’s door he stole,

And ate her up whole,

Dressed like her, and jumped into bed.

 

Red Riding Hood opened the door

Of old Granny’s house and she saw,

Her nan lying there,

All covered in hair,

And of Gran, there seemed a lot more.

 

“You’ve mighty big teeth, Nan!” She said.

“All the better for eating you, Red!

You’ll taste mighty good,

You and that red hood,

And I’ll start off by eating your head!”

 

But as the wolf raised its huge paw,

A woodsman crashed in through the door,

He swung his huge chopper,

The wolf came a cropper,

And its body fell dead to the floor.

 

Granny then crawled from its belly,

Unharmed, but a little bit smelly.

Wiping gunk off her head,

She smiled at Red,

And said “Love, shall we see what’s on telly?”

In the inky black depths of the sea, further down than light can penetrate, lives a unicorn. And a dragon. And Elvis.

It’s totally true, and nobody can prove otherwise. Ha, ha! Take that, science!

I went there the other day, and asked Elvis all the important things, like the meaning of life, and why he liked peanut butter so much, and he said “Bubble, bubble, bubble, gurgley sound, bubble!” or something like that… I may be paraphrasing a little…

As I was leaving, I waved at the dragon, who winked at me and then farted. Well, I reckon he did anyway. He just blushed furiously and gesticulated wildly at the sulphur vent behind him… yeah sure, dragon, whatever you say… that’s almost as bad as blaming the dog…

The unicorn wasn’t around at the time, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t exist. She might have been shopping for shoes, and flat screen TVs, or something.

 

He gazed into her eyes, took her hand and said “I’m not giving it back, you know.”

“But it’s my hand” she said, “I need it.”

“Be that as it may, this house is a mess, and I can always use a hand.”

“But the point is that it’s my hand, and I want it back.”

“We’re married, right?”

“Yes.”

“And when I proposed, I asked for your hand in marriage, right?”

“I guess so, but…”

“But nothing, you gave me your hand. I like it and I’m going to keep it.”

“What am I supposed to do now? I can’t work like this”

“I guess you’ll just have to get someone to give you a hand”

Welcome back to “Cooking The Books”!

Tonight, we are going to show you how to cook one of my favourites… Suspense Soup!

In a large heavy based saucepan, combine one emotionally flawed protagonist, half a dozen roughly chopped murder victims, and a liberal splash of mysterious phenomena. If phenomena is unavailable, substitute with one whole sadistic villian. Add one litre of stock (preferably police chase or childhood back story). Sprinkle with flour, and stir until the plot thickens. Boil until the murder victims float to the top. Ladle into deep bowls and garnish with a couple of red herrings.

This wonderful soup should be served with a side of chilled revenge. You can heat the revenge up, but it really is best served cold.

The flavours will have you guessing til the very last mouthful!

Stay tuned! After the break,  We’ll show you how to use all those frozen leftovers in a delicious Post-Modern Casserole.

The following story is true. Names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Judge: Silence in the court!!! Bailiff, what is the next case?

Bailiff: Your Honour, The next case is State versus Johnstone. The charge is Grand Theft Cookie.

Judge: Thankyou Bailiff. Will the prosecution please present the case.

Prosecuting Attorney: Thankyou, Your Honour. Today, we are here to prove that the defendant, one Mr Johnstone, stole the cookie from the cookie jar. If you will look to Exhibit A, you will notice the cookie jar. It is very empty. (Turns and points at Mr. Johnstone) You stole the cookie, didn’t you, Mr Johnstone? Didn’t you?

Johnstone: Who? Me?

Defending Attorney: Your Honour, I would like to point out that my client does not fully understand the charges leveled aginst him.

Judge: Mr Johnstone, you are being accused of grand theft cookie, and it is suggested that, yes, you, indeed stole the cookie from the cookie jar. How do you plead?

(manic whispering between Johnstone and Defending Attorney)

Defending Attorney: Your Honour, my client pleads not guilty, on account of  ‘Couldn’t Be’.

Judge: Hmmm, ‘Couldn’t Be’?… In light of this plea, I find the defendant not guilty of all charges. Case dismissed.

Dear Generic Advice Column Writer,

I have a phobia of roller skates. I think it may be because of the time we went to the zoo, and that monkey, the one with the manky eye, you know the one I mean… well, that monkey stole my mobile phone, and I think it texted rude messages to all my friends. I got the zoo keeper to get my phone back, but the monkey somehow locked it and changed the PIN, so I can’t make any calls right now. That made me feel like the time that they didn’t have any maple syrup at the supermarket. I mean they had maple flavoured syrup, but not the real stuff, so I went home and made toast, and cried while I watched Oprah. Oprah didn’t give stuff away that day. Well, she might have, but I didn’t see her do it. She’s a bit sneaky, that Oprah.

Anyway, that’s not why I’m writing. I just wondered if you could tell me what that guy on the t.v. is saying. You know, the one in the ad with the waterslide and the hippos and that lady with the really big hat. I think it’s for tacos, or earth moving equipment, or something.

Thanks for your help,

Sincerely,

Walter.

P.S. Where did I put last July’s copy of Eggs Monthly?

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