Sunday was when we went. Dad wanted to leave on Sunday so we could avoid the McDonald family, who spent every Sunday molting on the front lawn. Last year, Mr. McDonald's head fell off. He grew another one the next day. Only now his hair was green and he could shoot laser beams out of his eyes. Also, he shat turnips. But enough of that.
We climbed into the station wagon and turned right onto Fallinott Street. The street was named after Lucas Fallinott, who lived in Detroit. He invented the toothbrush in 1762.
As we drove, we saw Mr....
The waitress came up and said "Hey, want corn flakes?"
"No," says I. I am busy reading my book, which is about masking tape.
But the waitress is having none of it. "I made these corn flakes myself," she says.
"Okay," says I. "Give me some corn flakes."
She gives them to me. They are red, not orange, but I eat 'em anyway. "Yuck," says I. "These don't taste like corn flakes at all."
"They're not," she says. "They're scabs I picked off my elbow."
She shows me her elbow, which is bleeding lots. All kinds of blood is pouring...