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Chapter 3

The Story The Authors

As the crisis deepened the search for someone to lead the war on the on the criminal cheesecake conspiracy became even more frenzied. Illicit labs were working overtime to come up with a faster "no-bake" recipe which even the the FBI (Federal Baking Investigations) could not detect with their highly trained sniffer weasels. FBI Director Betty Crocker was not going to have her apron soiled on her watch. She leaned back in the big chintz desk chair and hissed into the intercom, "Get me my Pearls.......Grandma Pearl!" Her assistant, a pale , pauchy kid she called Pop'n moved quickly to set the seach in motion. Pod

"The Horde Shall Feast Well Tonight!" The Stout Little Doughboy Said To No One In Particular, Fiendishly Rubbing His Pasty Hands Together In The Universal Symbol For Pure Evil. After Assembling His Horsemen, They Galloped Off Into The Night, To Seek Raping And Pillaging And Low Cholesterol Treats Of Varying Sizes.. Jesse

Their fate, however,was already sealed. Unbeknownst to the harrowing horde, a mass grave awaited them just beyond the .... Em

toilet bowl. And they all lived unbearably ever after. Except for Grandma Pearl. The initials on her locket (and if you were paying attention, you'd remember they were "P.K.") stood for Pressha-rised Kapsule (which is of course misspelled, but what would you expect from a 2nd grade dropout?). Eventually the locket's seal couldn't keep the pressure in forever, so one day it exploded like a bloated whale, sending Grandma Pearl sailing plunging into the Rivuh Jordan. She couldn't swim and, well, you know the rest of the story." Grandma Amethyst closed the book and rocked in her chair. Little Darla clapped her hands merrily and sat up in bed. "Oh Grandma! That was a great story! I liked it lots! Please tell me more! What happened next, Grandma?" "Sorry, my little munchkin. The story is over. And it's time for beddy bye." She reached over and tucked the darling child in bed. "Oh Grandma! But I want to hear more! Tell me what happened next. Was there a princess, Grandma? What happened to the princess?" "There's no more to the story, my child." sighed Grandma. "And there was no mention of a princess in the story." Little Darla sat up and fidgeted. "Oh Grandma! Did the princess meet a prince? Did she fall in love, Grandma?" Grandma Pearl lowered her voice and said firmly, "There was no princess, Darla, no princess at all. Now it's time for beddy bye. The sandman is waiting to send you to dreamland." Darla continued to fidget and exclaimed, "Oh Grandma! I'm a little princess, aren't I? Am I going to meet a prince someday? Just like the story, Grandma? Someday someone's gonna give me their hand in marriage! Huh Grandma!" Grandma Amethyst mumbled, "I'm gonna give you the back of my hand in a moment if you don't shut up," while she continued to rock in her chair and do her knitting. "Hey Grandma!" shouted Little Darla. Grandma Amethyst stood up on her feet, put her hands on her hips, and glared down at the little girl. "Didn't I tell you to go to sleep?? What is it now?" Little Darla looked up at her Grandma with her big blue innocent eyes and said in a deep voice, "I'm gonna kill you!" "No you're not!" taunted Grandma Amethyst. "Yes I am!" said Little Darla, who pulled out a big kitchen knife. Grandma Amethyst pulled out a machine gun from her bundle of yarn and said, "You want some of me? Come on, try me!" And so Grandma Amethyst and Little Darla charged at each other. none

With an electric-like shock that shook every wattle and wrinkle, Grandma Pearl rolled over into what passed for consciousness. Was it a dream, Was it a dream? Pod

With an electric-like shock that shook every wattle and wrinkle, Grandma Pearl rolled over into what passed for consciousness. Was it a dream, Was it a dream? Pod

She was convinced it was indeed just a dream, save for the several odd, crescent-shaped burns on her sagging thighs. Rob Nadler

Rolling slowly on to her side, she struggled to see the burns. Strangely there was no pain, only the familiar smell of stilton. Her aged midnight eye lids rested and then rose like creeking garage doors, the light forcing its way into her aqueous humour glinting off the few remaining rods and cones. Grandma Pearl's enormous breasts sagged, both to one side and slowly she could see the burn marks, her thighs now pressing languidly against each other. First one synapse, then two, then thousands like some crazy telephone central switch... there was a message....a message burnt into both thighs! Pod

The Story	The Authors
As the crisis deepened the search for someone to lead the war on the on the criminal cheesecake conspiracy became even more frenzied. Illicit labs were working overtime to come up with a faster "no-bake" recipe which even the the FBI (Federal Baking Investigations) could not detect with their highly trained sniffer weasels. FBI Director Betty Crocker was not going to have her apron soiled on her watch. She leaned back in the big chintz desk chair and hissed into the intercom, "Get me my Pearls.......Grandma Pearl!" Her assistant, a pale , pauchy kid she called Pop'n moved quickly to set the seach in motion.	Pod
"The Horde Shall Feast Well Tonight!" The Stout Little Doughboy Said To No One In Particular, Fiendishly Rubbing His Pasty Hands Together In The Universal Symbol For Pure Evil. After Assembling His Horsemen, They Galloped Off Into The Night, To Seek Raping And Pillaging And Low Cholesterol Treats Of Varying Sizes..	Jesse
Their fate, however,was already sealed. Unbeknownst to the harrowing horde, a mass grave awaited them just beyond the ....	Em
toilet bowl. And they all lived unbearably ever after. Except for Grandma Pearl. The initials on her locket (and if you were paying attention, you'd remember they were "P.K.") stood for Pressha-rised Kapsule (which is of course misspelled, but what would you expect from a 2nd grade dropout?). Eventually the locket's seal couldn't keep the pressure in forever, so one day it exploded like a bloated whale, sending Grandma Pearl sailing plunging into the Rivuh Jordan. She couldn't swim and, well, you know the rest of the story." Grandma Amethyst closed the book and rocked in her chair. Little Darla clapped her hands merrily and sat up in bed. "Oh Grandma! That was a great story! I liked it lots! Please tell me more! What happened next, Grandma?" "Sorry, my little munchkin. The story is over. And it's time for beddy bye." She reached over and tucked the darling child in bed. "Oh Grandma! But I want to hear more! Tell me what happened next. Was there a princess, Grandma? What happened to the princess?" "There's no more to the story, my child." sighed Grandma. "And there was no mention of a princess in the story." Little Darla sat up and fidgeted. "Oh Grandma! Did the princess meet a prince? Did she fall in love, Grandma?" Grandma Pearl lowered her voice and said firmly, "There was no princess, Darla, no princess at all. Now it's time for beddy bye. The sandman is waiting to send you to dreamland." Darla continued to fidget and exclaimed, "Oh Grandma! I'm a little princess, aren't I? Am I going to meet a prince someday? Just like the story, Grandma? Someday someone's gonna give me their hand in marriage! Huh Grandma!" Grandma Amethyst mumbled, "I'm gonna give you the back of my hand in a moment if you don't shut up," while she continued to rock in her chair and do her knitting. "Hey Grandma!" shouted Little Darla. Grandma Amethyst stood up on her feet, put her hands on her hips, and glared down at the little girl. "Didn't I tell you to go to sleep?? What is it now?" Little Darla looked up at her Grandma with her big blue innocent eyes and said in a deep voice, "I'm gonna kill you!" "No you're not!" taunted Grandma Amethyst. "Yes I am!" said Little Darla, who pulled out a big kitchen knife. Grandma Amethyst pulled out a machine gun from her bundle of yarn and said, "You want some of me? Come on, try me!" And so Grandma Amethyst and Little Darla charged at each other.	none
With an electric-like shock that shook every wattle and wrinkle, Grandma Pearl rolled over into what passed for consciousness. Was it a dream, Was it a dream?	Pod
With an electric-like shock that shook every wattle and wrinkle, Grandma Pearl rolled over into what passed for consciousness. Was it a dream, Was it a dream?	Pod
She was convinced it was indeed just a dream, save for the several odd, crescent-shaped burns on her sagging thighs.	Rob Nadler
Rolling slowly on to her side, she struggled to see the burns. Strangely there was no pain, only the familiar smell of stilton. Her aged midnight eye lids rested and then rose like creeking garage doors, the light forcing its way into her aqueous humour glinting off the few remaining rods and cones. Grandma Pearl's enormous breasts sagged, both to one side and slowly she could see the burn marks, her thighs now pressing languidly against each other. First one synapse, then two, then thousands like some crazy telephone central switch... there was a message....a message burnt into both thighs!	Pod

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