An Intense Study of the Voracious Nature of Moles, and the Only TRUE Recipe for a Vodka Gimlet with Skunk Juice

By Richard Davidson

One afternoon, I forced ALL the groceries into the blender, creating a delicasy so delightful, I had to vomit for six days. I immediately called the Editor of "Strange" magazine, a filthy rag I wouldn't use for the bottom of my parakeet's cage. He asked if I was aquatic, which really was beside the point. I patiently explained, as I so often do, that the doctors had given up on me years ago, mixing painkillers with highly addictive muscle relaxers, anti-depressants, and some experimental substances they had bought from their kids. It had been months since I remembered my name or address, so I had decided to call myself Edgar.

I was getting along fine with myself these days, and hadn't thrown rocks at the paperboy lately, either. This was good news for him, but he would be the first to admit he wouldn't have made the track team without my highly effective training methods. I had come up with a new invention: The Manilla Shake.

That's right, a shake you can pour out of a brown paper envelope, and it could be any flavor you like, since it was entirely imaginary. I tried to explain this to the IRS guy they had sent over, but he was still thinking of numbers, and I had to tie him up for awhile, and gag him. This caused him to be far more attentive, and I made a mental note to myself that I would invite his entire family to my performance art piece, at a 20% discount.

He couldn't understand why I put the receiver of the phone into the garbage disposal, and flipped the switch, but then, who really could? I sold him some magazines, and went back to cooking eggs, whistling the theme from "Love Story" off key, and staring at those FBI guys that were approaching from the woods.

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