%%CAn you write a few paragraphs that include these quotes?

i was at a restaurant the other day, when the guy at the next table suddenly exploded (not literally). he screamed, “OH GOD! I HATE LIBERALS! KILL THE FILTHY SCUM! DIE! AAAUUUUGGGHHHHH!” he started dancing (more like hopping, actually) madly. the woman standing next to him, his wife probably, said “no..no honey. not like that, we’re not at a barn dance. do it like this.” she started dancing as well. her dance was pretty much the same as her husband’s, except she kicked up her legs past her waist, made wild circling motions with her arms, and regularly emitted these yells that sounded like those karate people sound when they break boards. i asked them, “did they teach you that in your anger management class?” the man stopped dancing and said with an unmistakeable pride saturating his voice, “oh no! it’s a method we devised ourselves. we try to use it as often as possible. that’s the twenty-seventh time today!” i siad, “you really pick odd things to brag about.” his wife said, “no, not really.” he said, “we’re aiming to get kicked out in the next 2 minutes.” i thought to his wife, “he’s a moron. no wnder you’re attracted to him!” i didn’t think they’d et kicked out; it seemed like people wre too frightened by them. but i did hear somene at the next table say into a cell phone, “yes, is this the Foibling Mental Instittuion? yes, do you happen to be missing two of your patients? oh, they put you in charge for the day? and you can’t count? i see… well thank you. goodbye.”

i left the restaurant and went to the food court at the nearest mall instead. i was waiting in line when i noticed a disturbance over by the toy store. curious, i went to see. oh no. it was the insane couple again. how had they ended up here?! they were sitting on the floor, in the most enormous pile of Barbie Fairytopia dolls i had ever seen. they were dissecting the dolls, rewiring them and putting them back together. the husband held up a doll, pressed a button on its back, and the doll said in a surprisingly low and nasally voice that defeinitely didn’t belong to it originally, “come fly with me.” he siad, “oh i’m sorry. i’ll stroll, you fly.” he tossed the doll high into the air. it said in that same low nasally voice, “wheeeee! you’re fun! Barbie likes yooouuuu…” it flew so high it broke a skylight window and was never seen again.

this time the wife held up a doll. it said in a sqeaky german accent, “the moonbeams will shoot out of your fingers and your toes and the end of your hair. and you’ll become just like me so we can have fun!” “so where are my moonbeams, huh?” screamed the wife. “IIIMMMMPPPOOOOOOSSSTTTEERRRRRRR!” “honey, the dance!” cried the husband. they danced. the husband still did the barn dance, but this time, the wife gyrated madly on her toes. they both emitted a constant stream of boeard-breaking yells. they looked and sounded like monkeys who had OD’d majorly, in their last hour of life when they just went compeltely insane. i sincerely hoped it was this twosome’s last hour of life. otherwise, i may never go out in public again.

p.s. wheeee! my funny is back! FFFUUUUUNNNN!

One night I asked my mom about dating since it seemed to be the “thing” to do in my 6th grade class. I asked her how I would know that I was in love. She replied, “The moonbeams will shoot out of your fingers and your toes and the ends of your hair.” Concerned, I asked her how it felt, if it hurt and if the guy had experienced the same thing. “Well,” she said, “he didn’t experience love the exact same way but he did have a very attractive way of dancing.” Mom said she enjoyed the dancing but after a while had to make it stop by saying, “No…no honey…not like that, we’re not at a barn dance.” Her boyfriend replied with how fast dances are getting these days and people just aren’t the same as they used to be. He ended with a snide remark saying, “Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll stroll. You fly.” as if flying was a bad thing. So without thinking much longer my mom jumped to her feet and started dancing along with him. “and, Oh, could we dance! We were like two chicken who could fly.” My reply was obvious, “Mom you really pick odd things to brag about.” I guess that night at my moms jr. high dance she found out who her real friends were. Friends of her’s kept bickering, “He’s a moron,” and whispering “no wonder you’re attracted to him. he he he” To these people my mom stood up and declared that it was great to be who she was and if they wanted to join in they could but it was not nice to “poke fun.” My mom really is great. I asked her,” did they teach you that in your anger management class in 7th grade?”

Back then I guess they didn’t have those kinds of classes.

THE END