I stared out the window with utter disbelief. Am I dreaming? If so, wow do I need to see a psychiatrist-and soon. In the valley outside my house there was a gigantic, slimy, oozing, terrifying, horrid, ghostly, monstrous, petrifying, screeching, thrashing, smashing, odorous, salivating, souless, protruding, scaly, shiny, puss-filled, maggot-infested, keening, dripping, horrifying VISION OF DEATH.
I knew what had to be done. I went to my closet and found all the important gear I would need to defeat this monster: a string, a stick, a game of Life board, and a Bop-It Extreme. Grimacing, I clipped them to my handy dandy Utililty Belt and went outside to slaughter the darn thing. As I rushed through the kitchen, I realized that no true hero would enter a battle without provisions. The cookie jar would be quite suitable.
"No junk until after supper, sweetheart."
Curses! I had been found out by none other than the terrible Mom-beast! Her demon hand stole the provisions from my sight, to stash the much-needed sugar rush on top of the cliff-fridge.
