David Sklar
							
			"The Sic Puppy"[sic]


"Our next item is a lovely blue ceramic vase.  Prized by royalty 
since it's creation in 354 BC. this little gem is the perfect 
addition to any bedroom, parlor, or bathroom.  The bidding will 
start at $29.95."
        The auction hall remained silent.  It was an uncomfortable 
silence, a silence much like the silence that occurs when two 
eight-year-olds have been playing football inside their house after 
their mother has specifically told them not to and one of them is 
just a little too excited to be imitating Randall Cunningham so he 
threw his fluorescent Nerf ball into the Louis XIV breakfront that 
his mother had just purchased at an auction the day before for 
$349.95 and the boys' mother, wearing a particularly ugly bright 
green nylon dress, walks into the living room and bellows, "Were 
you boys playing football in the house?"
        Finally, the interminable silence terminated.  "Ibid thirty 
dollars,"  relented a matron wearing a particularly ugly bright 
green nylon dress. 
        "Thirty dollars," said the auctioneer disappointedly, "We 
have thirty dollars.  Do I hear $33.50? $33.50?  Thirty dollars, 
going once, going twice, SOLD, to the lovely relenting matron in 
the--excuse me, ma'am, particularly ugly bright green nylon dress. 
You can pick up the purchase at the receiving dock out back, ma'am."
        The auctioneer, who bore a striking resemblance to Jonathan 
Pryce, began to hawk the next item, a blue inflatable lifeboat, but 
the particularly-ugly-bright-green-nylon-dress-matron got up out of 
her seat and left the room. She was going to the receiving dock to 
pick up her vase.  She followed the brightly lit signs that said 
"Receiving Dock: that way," followed by an arrow in one direction 
or another until she came to a small, purple room, obviously 
labeled "Receiving Dock." 
        "I'm here to pick up the vase Ibid on.  I believe it was 
exhibit number 32," she ventured.
        "Oh yeah, youse dat matron in de parteegulerly ugly bright 
green nylon dress. Here's youse's vase, lady," grunted the manager 
of the receiving dock.
        "Young man," snooted 
particularly-ugly-bright-green-dress-matron, "your pronunciation is 
simply horrible.  The item I bid on is called a vase, not a vase.  
Hmph."
        With that, P.U.B.G.D.M. spun on her high heels and walked 
away.  She walked back up to the main auction room, and as she 
passed she heard faint cries of, "Please, please, please buy this! 
It's a reeeeeeally good lifeboat.  It may save your life one day! 
Besides, it's only $12.53! And hey, it's blue!"  She proceeded past 
the room and headed out the front door, into her waiting car.  
Boris, the chauffeur, ushered her into the backseat and then took 
his position behind the wheel.  "Where to, miss?" he queried.
        "To the pudding store, my main man.  It is all right that I 
call you my "main" man, isn't it, Boris?  It doesn't lead you to 
believe any false implications of romantic intent, does it? I 
surely hope not."
        "No, it doesn't, Miss. Would you like me to take you to the 
private entrance?"
        "Of course, Bardis-er-my main man. Ha ha ha. I'm a pretty 
funny gal.  Say, Beldos, put that new Michael Bolton CD into the 
deck.  I just love his voice."
        As the mellow sounds of America's favorite "Soul Provider" 
wafted throughout the limousine, P.U.B.G.D.M. fell into a soothing 
sleep. Michael Bolton's music has that effect on some people.  She 
dreamt many things, from raindrops and roses to the decomposing 
body she found in her family's shed when she was twelve.  
Unfortunately, the chauffeur, Bernice, was also profoundly affected 
by the music.  As tranquil yet heart-wrenching ballad after 
tranquil yet heart-wrenching ballad wrenched Brian's heart, he 
found it harder and harder to concentrate on driving.  Eventually, 
he also joined his passenger in the province of Mr. Sandman.
        Unfortunately for the passenger in the particularly ugly 
bright green nylon dress and her chauffeur Brondel, the one of them 
that was driving suffered from somnovarniolitosis, a disorder in 
the halitosis which causes one to put pressure on one's feet as one 
sleeps.  Due to Barmel's sleep-related disease,  the car sped up at 
a voracious rate.  As a witness later put it, "That bright green 
limo? If you don't mind me sayin', it was particularly ugly.  
Anyway, It musta' been doin' at least 70 when it broadsided that 
schoolbus.  'Course that schoolbus was going pretty fast, too, you 
know."
        As is now painfully evident, the limousine slammed into a 
schoolbus.  All of the children were unharmed, as was the bus 
driver(a swarthy man with a handlebar moustache), but, sadly, the 
matron in the particularly ugly bright green dress and her 
chauffeur perished. The pictures of the accident on the six-o'clock 
news showed her body skewed across the street, wrapped in a 
nauseating green cocoon of melted nylon.  Needless to say, it was 
not very attractive.


Moral of the Story:
  Don't wear ugly clothing made of nylon.
  You'll be embarrassed if you are shown on TV with that kind of outfit.