Saturday, December 27, 2008


While traveling home for Christmas, I spent about an hour staring at the back of a box truck with a logo that read "Novelty, Inc." It was very nondescript and, therefore, very intriguing. I mean, there are novelty acts and novelty ice creams... but just what novelties did this baby blue box truck contain?

I began fantasizing about a traffic accident that would lead to the world's largest chattering teeth spill. I-75 north of Atlanta would be shut down for hours while they tried to clean it up. Volunteers would lose fingers as they battled the throngs of deadly chattering teeth. News reporters live from the scene could scarcely be heard over the din of the novelty item that just wasn't funny anymore. Mothers would make their children leave the room while they watched the carnage unfold in real time.

Firefighters would be called in to contain the chattering teeth with their hoses and paramedics would try to match up severed digits to victims' hands. And then, I would step forward with my plan....

First, establish a perimeter of whoopie cushions to contain the spill. Second, release the Slinkys to tangle up and ensnare the chattering teeth. Third, put on big nose glasses and foam sports fan "We're #1!" big hand gloves for protection and clean up the mess. Fourth, insert Billy Bob teeth and smile for the cameras. And, fifth, sign all autographs in disappearing ink.

Why do all of my fantasies end in me becoming the hero? Because they're my fantasies, by gum. You want to be the hero? Then you come up with a fantasy of your own. Just leave out the chattering teeth. They're mine. All mine.

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