Today is my last day at work before the Christmas Vacation.  So to hold most of you over, all three or so, I thought I’d share with you a little story ’bout a boy named Slooch.  So, here’s the tale of a boy named Slooch, as was told to me by no fewer than six (literally, six) slugs.  Besides, aren’t you tired of all the same old Christmas stories?

Slooch never knew what to get his mommy for Christmas.  Ever since daddy hit his head that one time for forgetting to boil the bacon, he hadn’t been around, except for the holidays.   Slooch enjoyed the baking tools of his farm.  He thought to bake some grass, but mommy never ate her allergies.  Daddy walked into his room and winked.
“You make soup, lately,” he said.  Slooch nodded in approval.  His radio was dry.  “Make soup for your mommy and bees,” daddy said.  Slooch frowned.  He forgot to buy the binary attachments required for bee and mommy soup.  Daddy shook his ferret.  “Make soup, or be expunged,” he warned.  Slooch began to cry.  Later, he was expunged.  Mommy and daddy were happy at last.  Pineapples forever!

I should try to get this published.

Stop looking at me like that…