It has come to my attention that the entire world’s supply of Candy Corn was originally manufactured in 1959 and has simply been recycled over and over since then.
Changes everything.

Here in the Midwest of the United States we are awfully proud of our ability to stuff numerous toddlers into compact backyard sandboxes. 15 was the longstanding record until this past August when Ingrid Troughton, without mechanical aid, crammed 27 toddler babies into her backyard sandbox and kept them there for almost three hours. And not small babies, either. We’re eaters in this part of the country and we pass it down through the genes. Some of these babies, to put it politely, have fat legs. That didn’t stop Ingrid. She plopped them all in there, each one buried up to at least their chest, as per regulation. Feeding isn’t always easy but at around the halfway mark, Ingrid did spray them down with the hose, doing at least three passes before retiring again to the back...

I’m sure every man has felt the urge to dump his shoes down the nearest sewer and retreat from civilization. He may have even had the urge to tear off the shoes of any strangers he may meet and dump those down the sewer as well as a liberating gesture, a way of saying, “Come Brother, Come Sister, together our feet can be free.” Each one of us, I’m also sure, has dreamt of smashing in display windows of shoe stores and cobblers and gathering up any and all kinds of footwear and dumping them all into the black abyss, in front of the news cameras. In front of the mayor’s men. In front of tomorrow’s generation. OUR FEET SHALL BE FREE! FREE TO BE LOOKED AT! FREE TO BE SEEN! FREE TO SUFFER SNAKE BITES AND SAND BURNS! FREE TO BE PRESSED UP AGAINST THINGS...

We close the night with a meditation on the oversharing of Vegetables. Neighborly cooperation and good feelings are welcome.
The piling and lighting on fire of said pile of surplus pears and peacock eggs on my driveway are not.

The only reasonable course of action is to construct a scaffolding around the entirety of your head to hold multiple, solid metal bells. These bells will ring each time you have a bad thought.
They will ring twice each time you have a good idea.
If you spring for the 15-bell set, they will play a stripped down version of Whitesnake’s “Crying in the Rain ’87” every time you think of your Dad.
And as an added bonus, the scaffolding will require you to sleep sitting up and keep you safe from the draft.

I’ve found that intensely staring at an Onion for three or more hours can have the same effect on your mood as cutting up that onion into chunks and walking into job interviews with them in your pockets.
You’ll feel the need to sweat but not be able to and wonder why.