Page 2

I wanted to go to the store and try a new turnip, thinking that possibly mine was defective, but my Volvo belched and I couldn't get it out of reverse and I'll be damned if I'm going to BACK all the way to the store. So instead I sneaked into my neighbor's turnip warehouse but all the idiot had was some rusting sprockets (which looked suspiciously like those from my Volvo) and a BETA Tape of an old 'Three's Company' episode. You know . . . Suzannne Sommers was not in that episode, but enough about that. So I tried using your do-hicky on the sprockets when, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a tiny cake that said 'Eat Me'. Well, being the adventurous type I decided to try the do-hicky on it. And well, let's just say I'll be calling my lawyer again. The damned thing started to grow and before I could do anything the cake exploded and out popped Mrs. Howel from Gilligan's Island.

Needless to say, I beat a hasty retreat . . . why couldn't it have been the Professor, at least HE might be able to tell me what's wrong with this thing! But alas, my thoughts are wandering, the point is that if the green sprocket is too small, then the yellow sprocket is so small as to be unuseable. The problem with this is, that when my wife spontaneously combusted I was left with just ashes for a spouse.

Page 2

I wanted to go to the store and try a new turnip, thinking that possibly mine was defective, but my Volvo belched and I couldn't get it out of reverse and I'll be damned if I'm going to BACK all the way to the store. So instead I sneaked into my neighbor's turnip warehouse but all the idiot had was some rusting sprockets (which looked suspiciously like those from my Volvo) and a BETA Tape of an old 'Three's Company' episode. You know . . . Suzannne Sommers was not in that episode, but enough about that. So I tried using your do-hicky on the sprockets when, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a tiny cake that said 'Eat Me'. Well, being the adventurous type I decided to try the do-hicky on it. And well, let's just say I'll be calling my lawyer again. The damned thing started to grow and before I could do anything the cake exploded and out popped Mrs. Howel from Gilligan's Island.

Needless to say, I beat a hasty retreat . . . why couldn't it have been the Professor, at least HE might be able to tell me what's wrong with this thing! But alas, my thoughts are wandering, the point is that if the green sprocket is too small, then the yellow sprocket is so small as to be unuseable. The problem with this is, that when my wife spontaneously combusted I was left with just ashes for a spouse. I wonder if I were to sprinkle her on the turnips in the vegetable garden, if they

Page 2

I wanted to go to the store and try a new turnip, thinking that possibly mine was defective, but my Volvo belched and I couldn't get it out of reverse and I'll be damned if I'm going to BACK all the way to the store. So instead I sneaked into my neighbor's turnip warehouse but all the idiot had was some rusting sprockets (which looked suspiciously like those from my Volvo) and a BETA Tape of an old 'Three's Company' episode. You know . . . Suzannne Sommers was not in that episode, but enough about that. So I tried using your do-hicky on the sprockets when, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a tiny cake that said 'Eat Me'. Well, being the adventurous type I decided to try the do-hicky on it. And well, let's just say I'll be calling my lawyer again. The damned thing started to grow and before I could do anything the cake exploded and out popped Mrs. Howel from Gilligan's Island.

Needless to say, I beat a hasty retreat . . . why couldn't it have been the Professor, at least HE might be able to tell me what's wrong with this thing! But alas, my thoughts are wandering, the point is that if the green sprocket is too small, then the yellow sprocket is so small as to be unuseable. The problem with this is, that when my wife spontaneously combusted I was left with just ashes for a spouse. I wonder if I were to sprinkle her on the turnips in the vegetable garden, if they would make up for the loss of my sex life, of which I hold your firm responsible.

Page 2

I wanted to go to the store and try a new turnip, thinking that possibly mine was defective, but my Volvo belched and I couldn't get it out of reverse and I'll be damned if I'm going to BACK all the way to the store. So instead I sneaked into my neighbor's turnip warehouse but all the idiot had was some rusting sprockets (which looked suspiciously like those from my Volvo) and a BETA Tape of an old 'Three's Company' episode. You know . . . Suzannne Sommers was not in that episode, but enough about that. So I tried using your do-hicky on the sprockets when, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a tiny cake that said 'Eat Me'. Well, being the adventurous type I decided to try the do-hicky on it. And well, let's just say I'll be calling my lawyer again. The damned thing started to grow and before I could do anything the cake exploded and out popped Mrs. Howel from Gilligan's Island.

Needless to say, I beat a hasty retreat . . . why couldn't it have been the Professor, at least HE might be able to tell me what's wrong with this thing! But alas, my thoughts are wandering, the point is that if the green sprocket is too small, then the yellow sprocket is so small as to be unuseable. The problem with this is, that when my wife spontaneously combusted I was left with just ashes for a spouse. I wonder if I were to sprinkle her on the turnips in the vegetable garden, if they would make up for the loss of my sex life, of which I hold your firm responsible. So I did sprinkle the ashes on the turnips and the turnips started to mutate into

Page 2

I wanted to go to the store and try a new turnip, thinking that possibly mine was defective, but my Volvo belched and I couldn't get it out of reverse and I'll be damned if I'm going to BACK all the way to the store. So instead I sneaked into my neighbor's turnip warehouse but all the idiot had was some rusting sprockets (which looked suspiciously like those from my Volvo) and a BETA Tape of an old 'Three's Company' episode. You know . . . Suzannne Sommers was not in that episode, but enough about that. So I tried using your do-hicky on the sprockets when, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a tiny cake that said 'Eat Me'. Well, being the adventurous type I decided to try the do-hicky on it. And well, let's just say I'll be calling my lawyer again. The damned thing started to grow and before I could do anything the cake exploded and out popped Mrs. Howel from Gilligan's Island.

Needless to say, I beat a hasty retreat . . . why couldn't it have been the Professor, at least HE might be able to tell me what's wrong with this thing! But alas, my thoughts are wandering, the point is that if the green sprocket is too small, then the yellow sprocket is so small as to be unuseable. The problem with this is, that when my wife spontaneously combusted I was left with just ashes for a spouse. I wonder if I were to sprinkle her on the turnips in the vegetable garden, if they would make up for the loss of my sex life, of which I hold your firm responsible. So I did sprinkle the ashes on the turnips and the turnips started to mutate into Rhubarb!....oh my God! I can't believe it! Rhubarb, how the hell have you........no, wait, it's losing the pinkish hue......it's turning into celery? plain old celery?........OH GOOD LORD NO........it's . . . it's . . . it's a Humongous Bok Choy!

Page 2

I wanted to go to the store and try a new turnip, thinking that possibly mine was defective, but my Volvo belched and I couldn't get it out of reverse and I'll be damned if I'm going to BACK all the way to the store. So instead I sneaked into my neighbor's turnip warehouse but all the idiot had was some rusting sprockets (which looked suspiciously like those from my Volvo) and a BETA Tape of an old 'Three's Company' episode. You know . . . Suzannne Sommers was not in that episode, but enough about that. So I tried using your do-hicky on the sprockets when, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a tiny cake that said 'Eat Me'. Well, being the adventurous type I decided to try the do-hicky on it. And well, let's just say I'll be calling my lawyer again. The damned thing started to grow and before I could do anything the cake exploded and out popped Mrs. Howel from Gilligan's Island.

Needless to say, I beat a hasty retreat . . . why couldn't it have been the Professor, at least HE might be able to tell me what's wrong with this thing! But alas, my thoughts are wandering, the point is that if the green sprocket is too small, then the yellow sprocket is so small as to be unuseable. The problem with this is, that when my wife spontaneously combusted I was left with just ashes for a spouse. I wonder if I were to sprinkle her on the turnips in the vegetable garden, if they would make up for the loss of my sex life, of which I hold your firm responsible. So I did sprinkle the ashes on the turnips and the turnips started to mutate into Rhubarb!....oh my God! I can't believe it! Rhubarb, how the hell have you........no, wait, it's losing the pinkish hue......it's turning into celery? plain old celery?........OH GOOD LORD NO........it's . . . it's . . . it's a Humongous Bok Choy! I had a wok handy, so I grabbed my

Page 2

I wanted to go to the store and try a new turnip, thinking that possibly mine was defective, but my Volvo belched and I couldn't get it out of reverse and I'll be damned if I'm going to BACK all the way to the store. So instead I sneaked into my neighbor's turnip warehouse but all the idiot had was some rusting sprockets (which looked suspiciously like those from my Volvo) and a BETA Tape of an old 'Three's Company' episode. You know . . . Suzannne Sommers was not in that episode, but enough about that. So I tried using your do-hicky on the sprockets when, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a tiny cake that said 'Eat Me'. Well, being the adventurous type I decided to try the do-hicky on it. And well, let's just say I'll be calling my lawyer again. The damned thing started to grow and before I could do anything the cake exploded and out popped Mrs. Howel from Gilligan's Island.

Needless to say, I beat a hasty retreat . . . why couldn't it have been the Professor, at least HE might be able to tell me what's wrong with this thing! But alas, my thoughts are wandering, the point is that if the green sprocket is too small, then the yellow sprocket is so small as to be unuseable. The problem with this is, that when my wife spontaneously combusted I was left with just ashes for a spouse. I wonder if I were to sprinkle her on the turnips in the vegetable garden, if they would make up for the loss of my sex life, of which I hold your firm responsible. So I did sprinkle the ashes on the turnips and the turnips started to mutate into Rhubarb!....oh my God! I can't believe it! Rhubarb, how the hell have you........no, wait, it's losing the pinkish hue......it's turning into celery? plain old celery?........OH GOOD LORD NO........it's . . . it's . . . it's a Humongous Bok Choy! I had a wok handy, so I grabbed my Ginsu knives with permanently bonded blades made of surgical stainless steel, enclosed within heat resistant handles that provide a durable, long-lasting

Page 2

I wanted to go to the store and try a new turnip, thinking that possibly mine was defective, but my Volvo belched and I couldn't get it out of reverse and I'll be damned if I'm going to BACK all the way to the store. So instead I sneaked into my neighbor's turnip warehouse but all the idiot had was some rusting sprockets (which looked suspiciously like those from my Volvo) and a BETA Tape of an old 'Three's Company' episode. You know . . . Suzannne Sommers was not in that episode, but enough about that. So I tried using your do-hicky on the sprockets when, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a tiny cake that said 'Eat Me'. Well, being the adventurous type I decided to try the do-hicky on it. And well, let's just say I'll be calling my lawyer again. The damned thing started to grow and before I could do anything the cake exploded and out popped Mrs. Howel from Gilligan's Island.

Needless to say, I beat a hasty retreat . . . why couldn't it have been the Professor, at least HE might be able to tell me what's wrong with this thing! But alas, my thoughts are wandering, the point is that if the green sprocket is too small, then the yellow sprocket is so small as to be unuseable. The problem with this is, that when my wife spontaneously combusted I was left with just ashes for a spouse. I wonder if I were to sprinkle her on the turnips in the vegetable garden, if they would make up for the loss of my sex life, of which I hold your firm responsible. So I did sprinkle the ashes on the turnips and the turnips started to mutate into Rhubarb!....oh my God! I can't believe it! Rhubarb, how the hell have you........no, wait, it's losing the pinkish hue......it's turning into celery? plain old celery?........OH GOOD LORD NO........it's . . . it's . . . it's a Humongous Bok Choy! I had a wok handy, so I grabbed my Ginsu knives with permanently bonded blades made of surgical stainless steel, enclosed within heat resistant handles that provide a durable, long-lasting orgasmic feeling. I then

Page 2

I wanted to go to the store and try a new turnip, thinking that possibly mine was defective, but my Volvo belched and I couldn't get it out of reverse and I'll be damned if I'm going to BACK all the way to the store. So instead I sneaked into my neighbor's turnip warehouse but all the idiot had was some rusting sprockets (which looked suspiciously like those from my Volvo) and a BETA Tape of an old 'Three's Company' episode. You know . . . Suzannne Sommers was not in that episode, but enough about that. So I tried using your do-hicky on the sprockets when, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a tiny cake that said 'Eat Me'. Well, being the adventurous type I decided to try the do-hicky on it. And well, let's just say I'll be calling my lawyer again. The damned thing started to grow and before I could do anything the cake exploded and out popped Mrs. Howel from Gilligan's Island.

Needless to say, I beat a hasty retreat . . . why couldn't it have been the Professor, at least HE might be able to tell me what's wrong with this thing! But alas, my thoughts are wandering, the point is that if the green sprocket is too small, then the yellow sprocket is so small as to be unuseable. The problem with this is, that when my wife spontaneously combusted I was left with just ashes for a spouse. I wonder if I were to sprinkle her on the turnips in the vegetable garden, if they would make up for the loss of my sex life, of which I hold your firm responsible. So I did sprinkle the ashes on the turnips and the turnips started to mutate into Rhubarb!....oh my God! I can't believe it! Rhubarb, how the hell have you........no, wait, it's losing the pinkish hue......it's turning into celery? plain old celery?........OH GOOD LORD NO........it's . . . it's . . . it's a Humongous Bok Choy! I had a wok handy, so I grabbed my Ginsu knives with permanently bonded blades made of surgical stainless steel, enclosed within heat resistant handles that provide a durable, long-lasting orgasmic feeling. I then had to figure out what to do with all of the Bok Choy Stir-fry. In moment of inspiration, I looked up your Shipping Address, called my Idiot neighbor and

Page 2

I wanted to go to the store and try a new turnip, thinking that possibly mine was defective, but my Volvo belched and I couldn't get it out of reverse and I'll be damned if I'm going to BACK all the way to the store. So instead I sneaked into my neighbor's turnip warehouse but all the idiot had was some rusting sprockets (which looked suspiciously like those from my Volvo) and a BETA Tape of an old 'Three's Company' episode. You know . . . Suzannne Sommers was not in that episode, but enough about that. So I tried using your do-hicky on the sprockets when, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a tiny cake that said 'Eat Me'. Well, being the adventurous type I decided to try the do-hicky on it. And well, let's just say I'll be calling my lawyer again. The damned thing started to grow and before I could do anything the cake exploded and out popped Mrs. Howel from Gilligan's Island.

Needless to say, I beat a hasty retreat . . . why couldn't it have been the Professor, at least HE might be able to tell me what's wrong with this thing! But alas, my thoughts are wandering, the point is that if the green sprocket is too small, then the yellow sprocket is so small as to be unuseable. The problem with this is, that when my wife spontaneously combusted I was left with just ashes for a spouse. I wonder if I were to sprinkle her on the turnips in the vegetable garden, if they would make up for the loss of my sex life, of which I hold your firm responsible. So I did sprinkle the ashes on the turnips and the turnips started to mutate into Rhubarb!....oh my God! I can't believe it! Rhubarb, how the hell have you........no, wait, it's losing the pinkish hue......it's turning into celery? plain old celery?........OH GOOD LORD NO........it's . . . it's . . . it's a Humongous Bok Choy! I had a wok handy, so I grabbed my Ginsu knives with permanently bonded blades made of surgical stainless steel, enclosed within heat resistant handles that provide a durable, long-lasting orgasmic feeling. I then had to figure out what to do with all of the Bok Choy Stir-fry. In moment of inspiration, I looked up your Shipping Address, called my Idiot neighbor and proceeded to pound the living crap out of him after seeing that your posted mailing address was 123 UpYours St., ScrewUTown, NY.... thus taking my frustration out on him.

To best sum up my dilemma, I can only quote Will Rogers, "

Page 2

I wanted to go to the store and try a new turnip, thinking that possibly mine was defective, but my Volvo belched and I couldn't get it out of reverse and I'll be damned if I'm going to BACK all the way to the store. So instead I sneaked into my neighbor's turnip warehouse but all the idiot had was some rusting sprockets (which looked suspiciously like those from my Volvo) and a BETA Tape of an old 'Three's Company' episode. You know . . . Suzannne Sommers was not in that episode, but enough about that. So I tried using your do-hicky on the sprockets when, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a tiny cake that said 'Eat Me'. Well, being the adventurous type I decided to try the do-hicky on it. And well, let's just say I'll be calling my lawyer again. The damned thing started to grow and before I could do anything the cake exploded and out popped Mrs. Howel from Gilligan's Island.

Needless to say, I beat a hasty retreat . . . why couldn't it have been the Professor, at least HE might be able to tell me what's wrong with this thing! But alas, my thoughts are wandering, the point is that if the green sprocket is too small, then the yellow sprocket is so small as to be unuseable. The problem with this is, that when my wife spontaneously combusted I was left with just ashes for a spouse. I wonder if I were to sprinkle her on the turnips in the vegetable garden, if they would make up for the loss of my sex life, of which I hold your firm responsible. So I did sprinkle the ashes on the turnips and the turnips started to mutate into Rhubarb!....oh my God! I can't believe it! Rhubarb, how the hell have you........no, wait, it's losing the pinkish hue......it's turning into celery? plain old celery?........OH GOOD LORD NO........it's . . . it's . . . it's a Humongous Bok Choy! I had a wok handy, so I grabbed my Ginsu knives with permanently bonded blades made of surgical stainless steel, enclosed within heat resistant handles that provide a durable, long-lasting orgasmic feeling. I then had to figure out what to do with all of the Bok Choy Stir-fry. In moment of inspiration, I looked up your Shipping Address, called my Idiot neighbor and proceeded to pound the living crap out of him after seeing that your posted mailing address was 123 UpYours St., ScrewUTown, NY.... thus taking my frustration out on him.

To best sum up my dilemma, I can only quote Will Rogers, "If it bleeds, you can kill it." . . . but, dammit, you can't get blood out of a turnip, the Bok Choy mutated from a turnip, ergo - the Bok Choy IS NOT DEAD! And I just cut it up into a bagillion pieces!

This message was edited by MrKlaatu on 07/28/02 22:03.17.

Page 2

I wanted to go to the store and try a new turnip, thinking that possibly mine was defective, but my Volvo belched and I couldn't get it out of reverse and I'll be damned if I'm going to BACK all the way to the store. So instead I sneaked into my neighbor's turnip warehouse but all the idiot had was some rusting sprockets (which looked suspiciously like those from my Volvo) and a BETA Tape of an old 'Three's Company' episode. You know . . . Suzannne Sommers was not in that episode, but enough about that. So I tried using your do-hicky on the sprockets when, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a tiny cake that said 'Eat Me'. Well, being the adventurous type I decided to try the do-hicky on it. And well, let's just say I'll be calling my lawyer again. The damned thing started to grow and before I could do anything the cake exploded and out popped Mrs. Howel from Gilligan's Island.

Needless to say, I beat a hasty retreat . . . why couldn't it have been the Professor, at least HE might be able to tell me what's wrong with this thing! But alas, my thoughts are wandering, the point is that if the green sprocket is too small, then the yellow sprocket is so small as to be unuseable. The problem with this is, that when my wife spontaneously combusted I was left with just ashes for a spouse. I wonder if I were to sprinkle her on the turnips in the vegetable garden, if they would make up for the loss of my sex life, of which I hold your firm responsible. So I did sprinkle the ashes on the turnips and the turnips started to mutate into Rhubarb!....oh my God! I can't believe it! Rhubarb, how the hell have you........no, wait, it's losing the pinkish hue......it's turning into celery? plain old celery?........OH GOOD LORD NO........it's . . . it's . . . it's a Humongous Bok Choy! I had a wok handy, so I grabbed my Ginsu knives with permanently bonded blades made of surgical stainless steel, enclosed within heat resistant handles that provide a durable, long-lasting orgasmic feeling. I then had to figure out what to do with all of the Bok Choy Stir-fry. In moment of inspiration, I looked up your Shipping Address, called my Idiot neighbor and proceeded to pound the living crap out of him after seeing that your posted mailing address was 123 UpYours St., ScrewUTown, NY.... thus taking my frustration out on him.

To best sum up my dilemma, I can only quote Will Rogers, "If it bleeds, you can kill it." . . . but, dammit, you can't get blood out of a turnip, the Bok Choy mutated from a turnip, ergo - the Bok Choy IS NOT DEAD! And I just cut it up into a bagillion pieces... Please allow me to show the Bok Choy before the mutation:








Here it is after the mutation:


This message was edited by Ken on 07/28/02 22:41.13.

Page 2

I wanted to go to the store and try a new turnip, thinking that possibly mine was defective, but my Volvo belched and I couldn't get it out of reverse and I'll be damned if I'm going to BACK all the way to the store. So instead I sneaked into my neighbor's turnip warehouse but all the idiot had was some rusting sprockets (which looked suspiciously like those from my Volvo) and a BETA Tape of an old 'Three's Company' episode. You know . . . Suzannne Sommers was not in that episode, but enough about that. So I tried using your do-hicky on the sprockets when, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a tiny cake that said 'Eat Me'. Well, being the adventurous type I decided to try the do-hicky on it. And well, let's just say I'll be calling my lawyer again. The damned thing started to grow and before I could do anything the cake exploded and out popped Mrs. Howel from Gilligan's Island.

Needless to say, I beat a hasty retreat . . . why couldn't it have been the Professor, at least HE might be able to tell me what's wrong with this thing! But alas, my thoughts are wandering, the point is that if the green sprocket is too small, then the yellow sprocket is so small as to be unuseable. The problem with this is, that when my wife spontaneously combusted I was left with just ashes for a spouse. I wonder if I were to sprinkle her on the turnips in the vegetable garden, if they would make up for the loss of my sex life, of which I hold your firm responsible. So I did sprinkle the ashes on the turnips and the turnips started to mutate into Rhubarb!....oh my God! I can't believe it! Rhubarb, how the hell have you........no, wait, it's losing the pinkish hue......it's turning into celery? plain old celery?........OH GOOD LORD NO........it's . . . it's . . . it's a Humongous Bok Choy! I had a wok handy, so I grabbed my Ginsu knives with permanently bonded blades made of surgical stainless steel, enclosed within heat resistant handles that provide a durable, long-lasting orgasmic feeling. I then had to figure out what to do with all of the Bok Choy Stir-fry. In moment of inspiration, I looked up your Shipping Address, called my Idiot neighbor and proceeded to pound the living crap out of him after seeing that your posted mailing address was 123 UpYours St., ScrewUTown, NY.... thus taking my frustration out on him.

To best sum up my dilemma, I can only quote Will Rogers, "If it bleeds, you can kill it." . . . but, dammit, you can't get blood out of a turnip, the Bok Choy mutated from a turnip, ergo - the Bok Choy IS NOT DEAD! And I just cut it up into a bagillion pieces... Please allow me to show the Bok Choy before the mutation:





Here it is after the mutation:




So, you can see my dilemma . . . all these little pieces are still alive.

Page 2

I wanted to go to the store and try a new turnip, thinking that possibly mine was defective, but my Volvo belched and I couldn't get it out of reverse and I'll be damned if I'm going to BACK all the way to the store. So instead I sneaked into my neighbor's turnip warehouse but all the idiot had was some rusting sprockets (which looked suspiciously like those from my Volvo) and a BETA Tape of an old 'Three's Company' episode. You know . . . Suzannne Sommers was not in that episode, but enough about that. So I tried using your do-hicky on the sprockets when, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a tiny cake that said 'Eat Me'. Well, being the adventurous type I decided to try the do-hicky on it. And well, let's just say I'll be calling my lawyer again. The damned thing started to grow and before I could do anything the cake exploded and out popped Mrs. Howel from Gilligan's Island.

Needless to say, I beat a hasty retreat . . . why couldn't it have been the Professor, at least HE might be able to tell me what's wrong with this thing! But alas, my thoughts are wandering, the point is that if the green sprocket is too small, then the yellow sprocket is so small as to be unuseable. The problem with this is, that when my wife spontaneously combusted I was left with just ashes for a spouse. I wonder if I were to sprinkle her on the turnips in the vegetable garden, if they would make up for the loss of my sex life, of which I hold your firm responsible. So I did sprinkle the ashes on the turnips and the turnips started to mutate into Rhubarb!....oh my God! I can't believe it! Rhubarb, how the hell have you........no, wait, it's losing the pinkish hue......it's turning into celery? plain old celery?........OH GOOD LORD NO........it's . . . it's . . . it's a Humongous Bok Choy! I had a wok handy, so I grabbed my Ginsu knives with permanently bonded blades made of surgical stainless steel, enclosed within heat resistant handles that provide a durable, long-lasting orgasmic feeling. I then had to figure out what to do with all of the Bok Choy Stir-fry. In moment of inspiration, I looked up your Shipping Address, called my Idiot neighbor and proceeded to pound the living crap out of him after seeing that your posted mailing address was 123 UpYours St., ScrewUTown, NY.... thus taking my frustration out on him.

To best sum up my dilemma, I can only quote Will Rogers, "If it bleeds, you can kill it." . . . but, dammit, you can't get blood out of a turnip, the Bok Choy mutated from a turnip, ergo - the Bok Choy IS NOT DEAD! And I just cut it up into a bagillion pieces... Please allow me to show the Bok Choy before the mutation:





Here it is after the mutation:




So, you can see my dilemma . . . all these little pieces are still alive. And each of the pieces started screaming and grew into a whole new Bok Choy and started running after me.

Page 2

I wanted to go to the store and try a new turnip, thinking that possibly mine was defective, but my Volvo belched and I couldn't get it out of reverse and I'll be damned if I'm going to BACK all the way to the store. So instead I sneaked into my neighbor's turnip warehouse but all the idiot had was some rusting sprockets (which looked suspiciously like those from my Volvo) and a BETA Tape of an old 'Three's Company' episode. You know . . . Suzannne Sommers was not in that episode, but enough about that. So I tried using your do-hicky on the sprockets when, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a tiny cake that said 'Eat Me'. Well, being the adventurous type I decided to try the do-hicky on it. And well, let's just say I'll be calling my lawyer again. The damned thing started to grow and before I could do anything the cake exploded and out popped Mrs. Howel from Gilligan's Island.

Needless to say, I beat a hasty retreat . . . why couldn't it have been the Professor, at least HE might be able to tell me what's wrong with this thing! But alas, my thoughts are wandering, the point is that if the green sprocket is too small, then the yellow sprocket is so small as to be unuseable. The problem with this is, that when my wife spontaneously combusted I was left with just ashes for a spouse. I wonder if I were to sprinkle her on the turnips in the vegetable garden, if they would make up for the loss of my sex life, of which I hold your firm responsible. So I did sprinkle the ashes on the turnips and the turnips started to mutate into Rhubarb!....oh my God! I can't believe it! Rhubarb, how the hell have you........no, wait, it's losing the pinkish hue......it's turning into celery? plain old celery?........OH GOOD LORD NO........it's . . . it's . . . it's a Humongous Bok Choy! I had a wok handy, so I grabbed my Ginsu knives with permanently bonded blades made of surgical stainless steel, enclosed within heat resistant handles that provide a durable, long-lasting orgasmic feeling. I then had to figure out what to do with all of the Bok Choy Stir-fry. In moment of inspiration, I looked up your Shipping Address, called my Idiot neighbor and proceeded to pound the living crap out of him after seeing that your posted mailing address was 123 UpYours St., ScrewUTown, NY.... thus taking my frustration out on him.

To best sum up my dilemma, I can only quote Will Rogers, "If it bleeds, you can kill it." . . . but, dammit, you can't get blood out of a turnip, the Bok Choy mutated from a turnip, ergo - the Bok Choy IS NOT DEAD! And I just cut it up into a bagillion pieces... Please allow me to show the Bok Choy before the mutation:





Here it is after the mutation:




So, you can see my dilemma . . . all these little pieces are still alive. And each of the pieces started screaming and grew into a whole new Bok Choy and started running after me. Luckily, they were all still the size of a grain of rice and a few sweeps with my ACME Flame Thrower dispatched the majority of them like sunlight kills a vampyre.

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This message was edited by MrKlaatu on 07/28/02 23:24.51.