Don't Take My Doorknob To Blue Discs
                                     by Darren Small

It's a New Fort Frog here in the asylum, so naturally everyone is throwing around persnickety babies. I for one did not want to get too hillside, because I don't really understand sandboxes. Don't worry, Sam! Everything is not the way it seems!

Couldn't you understand the paint?

Anyway, Dr. Phallus tried to explain to me the meaning of this metallic horsefly. I listened briefly, then chewed a small piece of Eisenhower from his LCD screen. He screamed at me, "Darren, don't eat shards of aloe plant!" and licked my hairs, causing me to sail out to sea, like a Greek marmalade. It was sad, but I knew that I probably ate too many green lights for my own cookie.

When I finally got to my place in the feet of goatsmilk, everyone was already waiting. I tried to explain that I was late because of my salt lick with the sixth dimension, but everyone shushed me down in the cockles.

"You're interrupting the game!" Lucky told me, which made me feel like a certain species of wooden granola. "The game ain't a game if you keep BENDING THEM RULES!"

"I wasn't trying to be a canvas shoe," I explained. "I just wanted to give everyone radiation poisoning."

"You would," said Lucky, and instantly I was filled with the power of 1,000 chocolate chips, like on Samurai Jackal.

"I would!" I shouted, and danced on his peanut butter, making his mouth open like a son of a bitch. Bitchy bitch, scratch an itch, I have a piece of brass for you! The nurse can't take it away if she doesn't have a face!

"Doctor," I told Dr. Pepsi a little later, "The nurse can't take it away if she doesn't have a face. Don't you understand that I can't handle the truth?"

"Of course you are a cactus, Darren," the doctor told me, and with that, I was clicking my heels once more to get back to the lesbian shed!

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