The Godfreys et al.

The story you are about to read is true.  The names have been changed to offend many of those not involved.

Dum da dum dum…

It was a dark and stormy night.  Sarah was in the bathroom, brushing her hair.  She had been there for 63 hours straight.  It was not even close to the world record, which she had set the previous week at 191 hours.  Then the door opened.  Sunlight blazed into a room reeking of Miss Clairol and Magik Mousse.  Sarah screamed, “Help me, the light!  Get me some sunglasses, quickly!  They better be cool-looking or you’re dead!”

In walked Lena, who gave Sarah a cool-looking pair of Raybans.  “Oh, but they don’t go with the shoes I’m wearing!”  Sarah cried.  Lena, in a fit of righteous anger took a hot curling iron and gouged out Sarah’s eyes.  “Oh no, is my mascara running?”  she asked.

“Hey, Sarah,” Lena said, “have you seen my new boyfriend yet?”  She pulled out a long roll of pictures from her purse.  “Let’s see, is it Julio?  No, I hate him.  Is it this one, what’s-his-name?  No.  How about Juan.  No.  Carlos?  Not this week…”

This went on for about six days, until the house blew up.  Neil and the Rockin’ Raban Rowdies were trying out a new formula in their atomic particle separators.  It was really neat, and sent the house and its contents exactly 12 feet away from He-Man’s house in Eternia.

Meanwhile, back at the skunk ranch, Emily was blasting whatever little rhythm and melody remained out of some famous Buddhist polka on her tuba (It is a tuba, isn’t it?).  Abby, who actually liked the sound, was turning somersaults on the living room carpet.  She was heard to say, “More tone, more tone,” between two of her spectacular gymnastic feats.

Ryan was asleep, of course.  Visions of the Bee Gees and John Travolta danced in his head.  He vomited.  So ends our tale of vague innuendos and double-meaning rhymes.  We’ll see you next time on…

Scumbunnies ‘R’ Us