What Are We But Our Stories?

Dear God," Said Nudge Under Her Breath, "i Want Real Parents. But I Want Them To Want Me Too. I Want Them To Love Me. I Already Love Them. Please See What You Can Do. Thanks Very Much. Love, Nudge." Okay, So I'm Not Saying We Were Pros At This Or Anything. (max Thoughts)

Unfortunately, Every Time Someone Said “debriefing,” The Entire Flock Had One Image: Someone’s Tighty-whities Disappearing In A Flash. We Were Smothering Our Giggles, But It Was Getting Harder. Coupled With The Whole “naval This, And Naval That,” With Its Undeniable Belly-button Connotations, We Were Essentially Turning Into A Sugar-jacked, Sleep-deprived Flock Of Incoherent, Silly, Recombinant-dna Goofballs. This Was Not Going To End Well.

Have You Been Playing In Toxic Waste Lately?

Who, Last Time I'd Checked, Was Still On Our Official Archenemy List. (yes, We Have To Keep A List. It's Kind Of Sad.)

I Just Wish I Could Walk Into My Senator’s Office And Say, “senator Dude, Um, We Have A Problem With These Sicko Scientists…” But Then Again, I Don’t Think We Have A Senator, Do We? Is There A State Where Mutant Freaks Are Represented? If So, Let Me Know.