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Saturday, March 13, 2004

I fantasized that I was with my broad-shouldered husband, relaxing in a big black boiling pot, to be eaten by cannibals. I, being an airhead, was completely oblivious to this predicament, and I looked up at my husband, lovingly telling him "Isn't this great? We're getting a warm bath." Being the wonderful imaginary husband that he is, he just lied there, holding me tendelrly, appreciating the time we had together. We kept that same sappy expression as we were laid, naked, on a platter surrounded decoratively by fruits and vegetables, and as we watched our limbs being carved off ("oooh, I have some nice fat over here, cut this off) and swallowed, toes and all. Our only nervous moment was when our heads, the final course, were seperated to be eaten like apples, but we didn't seem to mind. We enjoyed the time we spent together. We were a happy marriage.

"Dearest? They seem to be eating us up."
"Don't worry, honey, everything's going to be all right. ... Hey, that's my leg!"
"Oooh, my thigh's gone too..."
"Honey, I don't think these are nice people..."
"Don't worry. They say true giving is the giving of yourself."
"But wait! Honey! (chomp! his head gets eaten.)"
"Oooh, I like you best like this... (licks his nipple and then takes a great big bite out of his chest.) Oooh... (camera pans out as the cannibals continue their feast. Who knew perverted humans were so tasty?)"

THE END! Boy, that was fun. Again?
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