Hi. Here’s the sore story.

  1. Checked out a lot of books.
  2. Had to take them to the bus stop.
  3. Nearly missed  the bus. Had to drop bags, run to bus, and plead with bus driver to wait for me.
  4. While shuffling back to my house from the other bus stop, someone  helped me. 🙂
  5. And now I am sore everywhere. To reuse a joke I made earlier today, “Is this what it feels like after you exercise??” Eh. It was funnier in my head. Mom, I feel your pain, for I also have a crick in my neck.

So, Yom Kippur is tonight. See you LATE on Saturday, guys and….other term? I can’t find a different term. RE DO! See you LATE on Saturday, beloved readers! Much better. I plan to post my analyzing of the original Maximum Ride trilogy then. Have a great evening, or, if you’re not in my time zone, night/morning/afternoon/midmorning/midnight/midevening/midafternoon/tea time/Adventure Time/or snack time!


The Uncle Jolly’s Kid-Friendly Show Hour!

Welcome to Studio 7Q! Wonderful shows are filmed here, including the entertaining “My Mother the Smart Car” and “Watching Soil Erode!” Today, you’ll get to see a staple of my childhood, “The Uncle Jolly’s Kid-Friendly Show Hour!” It made me the mutant I am today! Roll it!

“Hi, kids!” A man wearing an orange-and-green sweater vest over a purple ‘Death to Barney’ shirt jumped at the camera. Several members of the studio audience dissolved into tears. The man looked annoyed, and motioned for security guards to drag them out of the studio.

Turning back to the camera, he broke into a huge smile. “I’m Uncle Jolly NoLastName! Or, at least, that’s what my criminal record says! We have an excellent show for you today! Wumbles, my partner-in-slapstick has a treat for you!” He motioned to a quivery, jelly-like styrofoam mascot. “Wumbles?” Wumbles whimpered, and dragged himself over to Uncle Jolly, who instantly smacked him with the blunt edge of a battleaxe. The poor mascot fell down, whimpering.

“He does all of his own stunts! New segment! Who likes cookies?” Half of the audience jumped up and squealed, while the less-naive, other half looked wary and searched for easy-to-reach exits. “I know I do, and I appreciate all of you! Look under your seats for free cookies!”

Five minutes later…

“THE PIRANHAS! THEY’VE GOT ME!” one little boy wailed. Uncle Jolly looked off to the side anxiously. “Yeah..well…another classic Uncle Jolly prank!” Before the camera moved away from the gore-filled audience seats and onto him, he glared at a passing intern and growled, “I thought you got the high-class plastic wrap! Remind me to kill you when this show is over!”

Instantly snapping back to the camera, he contorted his mouth into a grin. “While the ambulances are loading up the people, and their lawyers are suing me, let’s get three audience members who aren’t maimed and emotionally scarred to help me with my educational segment! The network says that if I don’t make things educational, then I’ll get the can!” Three unwilling little kids, looking like shell-shocked war veterans, stumbled from the audience. As they were doing so, their respective mothers and fathers clutched their other children and hastily began scribbling wills.

A different intern shoved a giant-sized drawing pad onto the set, accidentally running over Uncle Jolly’s foot. He stared at the intern, and mimed breaking a lead pipe over his head. The intern gulped and scurried away. “Now, on this drawing pad, I have three drawings written. First,” as he spoke, the paper was flipped over, “someone getting shot in the heart with a dart gun filled with walnuts. Next, someone getting stabbed to death while using crystal meth. Finally, Attila the Hun with a shotgun. Can you guess why these are all similar?” The last doodle depicted Atilla the Hun shooting someone that looked suspiciously like a network executive. The kids looked horrified. One of them threw up on her Hello Kitty sneakers.

A little boy raised his hand. “…B-because they all have things that will doom us to years of mental therapy that will prove ineffectual and lead to miserable, depressing lives?”

Jolly looked nonplussed. “What a nice run-on sentence! But, WRONG! They all rhyme! ” He pressed a button, and the kid slid down into a secret tunnel, screaming. “Didn’t I say that was going to happen?” The remaining toddlers shook their heads numbly. “Well, at least I put cushions!” The boy’s voice piped up. “No, you didn’t. I think I broke my legs.” Jolly shoved an intern down the tunnel, blocking sound from coming up. “Quiet, you!”

Network executives burst into the room. “Stop right there, Jolly!” one of them shouted, brandishing a pistol. “You’ve gone too far! Interns cost money!” As they surrounded Uncle Jolly, preparing to take him into custody, the depraved kid’s show host threw a smoke bomb on the ground and jumped out the 36-floor high window. “You’ll never take me alive! I’m Uncle Jolly, signing off from today’s episode! Good night and sweet dreams, kiddies! MWUAHAHAHHAHAHHA!”