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In the double current of Maat/Horus, the disbanding of Nirvana and the age of the new Goddess, Alanis Morrissett, do I type these words, 'tis true, without a word of lie, 'tis very true. That which is on the z-list is online, and that which is online, is on the z-list, to work boredom from. And just as all things have been, and are come from, Shub internet, so are all e-mails born of this one thing. And so it goes.....
As I lay in my chamber, exausted from another day, my Ladywife and child beside me, I did hear a stirring coming from yonder.
"Hark!", I said, I usually don't say "Hark," but it makes for a better story, "Hark!", I said, "What is that noise from kitchen yonder?"
I crawled from the safety of my warm nest and reached for my weapon. I spoke the secret words as taught to me by my mentor, Mr. Rogers.
"Oh mighty Mjollnir, basher of burglars, at any other time thy name be golfclub, defend me now in your grandest "hole in one" style. I invoke thee Arnold Palmer, Jack Nicholas, and Lee Trevino. Lee, you're not that great of a golfer, but you were struck by lightning."
I felt the powerglow of Mjollnir creep through my body, or it might have just been heartburn from too much pizza before bed, I'm not sure. Feeling bold, I took four antacid tablets with extra calcium and crept down the stairs to the cavern we call the kitchen.
There before me hunched over a pot of some incongruent mass, was, to my horror, the Mother-in-law!
I quickly said my silent invocation to the God "Nike Adidas" and the silent incantation "Feets don't fail me now" but she turned and saw me before I could run away.
The stench of too much Opium and Morning Dew perfume assaulted my senses, I almost passed out from the smell. I shook my head to clear my throbbing brain, and saw her moving toward me, a spoon in one hand and the pot in the other.
Thinking as quickly as I could I shouted "Get thee behind me Mother-in-law. Oh yea, forcer of unwanted food, pincher of my young son's cheeks. Take your pots of alcohol chicken and your silly folk superstitions and begone."
And she that moved spake, "We are the Mother-in-laws and we are many, we move into your home in the well-meaning guise of nutritional needs, but in reality we come to cause strife. Our famous curse Support the baby's head! will ring in your ears till the day you die."
The odor of garlic and Polident was almost too much to bear. I was frozen in place, forced to listen to her complaining diatribe.
She continued "I hurl upon ye, parents that love your children and would keep them. We the Mother-in-laws manifest in many forms, one of those forms being 'The well meaning friend'."
I had had enough, I knew if I didn't stop this horror now, it would be too late. I rose up and spoke the revered names of Gods and Goddesses most hated by the Mother-in-law.
"I invoke thee Led Zeppelin, fall upon this Legion and take it from my site. In through the out door, if you will. And also the curse called 'The well-meaning friend'. Those vile childless beings that somehow know everything about how to rear my child. Jimi Hendricks wail upon your guitar with extra feedback and distortion, Janis Joplin rip one out and sonically banish this blot on human kind."
Then I spoke my best and most sacred barbarous name incantation, that of Cheech and Chong "Oh Feely me bony belly e probiscus e Billy selly all of his dominoes."
And with that the Mother-in-law packed her bags and left my dwelling, vowing never to return.
Somehow, I doubted it.
This is an original work by James Lin and may be freely stolen, plagiarized and transmitted openly on any and all systems.
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