Thursday, October 20, 2011

Little Cindy Lou had a secret, she like the taste of fingers. It started out with just mild thumb sucking but then her mom threatened her with braces. Mary across the street had braces and looked like an ugly donkey so she didn’t want them that’s for sure so she did her best to stop sucking her thumb. Of course it was just too much when they went visiting the neighbor’s new baby and she saw he got to suck his thumb. It just wasn’t fair!
When the mommies weren’t looking she sucked his thumb too. His thumb was much smaller and most likely wouldn’t make her have donkey teeth. Of course she didn’t want to give it up and wished she could take it with her. Then she noticed the puppy chewing on a bone and it snapped a little piece right off and Cindy Lou got a wonderful idea. Before anyone would could stop her or even see what she was doing she bit it off.

The baby started screaming and she quickly pulled the thumb from her mouth and pointed to the dog. “He bit of the baby’s thumb!”

“Oh heaven!” cried the mothers, “Quick to the hospital.”

They pumped the dogs stomach but it was too late the thumb was never found.

Once Cindy Lou was home alone in her room she pulled out the thumb and popped in her mouth smiling. She could suck a thumb and not have donkey teeth, she was a genius!

After a few days, the thumb started to taste yucky and she wanted a new one. She had to come up with another plan.  She saw the neighbor’s dog sitting in the back yard looking sick. Everyone thought it bit thumbs already so she just had to find away to make it look like it did it again.

Her next victim was the blind kid up the street. He had been sitting in the yard as his mother weeded when Cindy Lou and the neighbor’s innocent dog came up. Cindy snapped the finger off quickly and screamed at the dog to give it back.

By now the whole neighborhood had heard about that had happen to the baby so they were quick to chase down the dog.

This thumb was bigger but since it was detached she could still pop it in her mouth and not get donkey teeth. She liked the bigger thumb and wondered if she could get an even larger one once this one went bad.

A few days later Cindy Lou looking on as her mommy made her a jelly sandwich.
“Mommy, can the neighbor’s dog come to visit?” She asked sweetly. Her mommy had a nice thumb and she wanted it next.
Rose von Barnsley


Being a Mom and a Vampire doesn’t come with instructions.  It’s a difficult life and even harder when you have a little one to take care of as well.  When it comes to feeding your little vampire you want to make sure you are only giving them the best. That’s why I give my little bloodsucker TrueBlood Jam. It’s not like those other brands made of synthetics and fillers. TrueBlood Jam is made with REAL BLOOD donated by only the healthiest of humans.  

Choosey Mom’s choose TrueBlood Jam.

~Selene de Modelo


You Get What You Pay For

When adopting overseas it’s important to adopt from a reputable company. My husband and I tried for years to have our own child but, due to the sex change I had back in 1986 it was impossible. As you can tell from my oversized BUT well-manicured hands I was once a “John” or a Jonny “Come” Lately as Herbert my husband used to say. So when a friend of mine proposed adoption we jumped on the idea. Well it turns out a friend of a friend of a friend knew of a friend who adopted overseas and it was fairly in expensive. This particular agency didn’t care about race, sexual orientation, single, married, divorced or if you were a cult leader. (Which I was back in the day that’s how Herbert and I meet but that’s another story) any who, we Pricelined our tickets and we were on our way to a tiny little island just off the coast of Haiti.
Once we got there we meet a strange fellow with a nose ring and lots of bone trinkets. Soon our prays to the COW god were answered! We were now on our way with a sweet little blonde child for $200.00. Once home we noticed Mertyll didn’t say much except for the occasional mumble and grunt. No matter how we tried we couldn’t get her to speak. Well Herbert just couldn’t wait to say “You get what you pay for!” [blah, blah, blah]. Then we noticed strange things started to happen around the house. Our child never slept! Initially we attributed it to jet lag but it wasn’t she literally never slept. It was really creeping us out. One night after tucking her in, well let’s be honest STRAPPING her in to her bed I grabbed her dirty laundry and found Mrs. Ferguson’s missing cat, turns out our little Mertyll was a cannibal.
Now that we found out what she loves we always have a fresh jar of animal guts and blood Jam readily available for our little pumpkin. Oh it just warms my heart to see her get all excited over her meals. Who said kids were expensive?

~Victoria Maundrell


Cellular Musings…

It started when I was just five years old.
Actually, it probably started much sooner than that, but five was the earliest I had physical confirmation I was hooked.  My dad snapped a picture of me staring longingly, just waiting with baited breath for my mother to get to the next part of making my sandwich, the best part.
The peanut butter.
Unfortunately for her, when she had done smearing the jam on the bread, she folded it over and just handed it to me, sans the manna from heaven that I had been waiting so patiently for.
She really shouldn’t have done that.
I understand now as an adult how one could be too busy to go to the pantry, pull out the jar, unscrew the lid, acquire a butter knife, dip it into the jar, and spread the damn stuff on the bread, slap the sandwich together, and THEN hand it to a bouncing child, I really could.  That was a lot of work.
Too bad her not doing it was also her downfall.
I had never been a particularly mean child, never prone to fits or untoward tendencies.  However, I had been so excited and so hungry that day.  I just wanted my favorite thing in the whole world to eat.  Was that really too much to ask?
Apparently, it was.
I suppose, as I sit here eating my PB&J, crusts trimmed, cut into triangles, that I should feel some remorse.  After all, the twelve stab wounds I inflicted on my mother’s abdomen and the two I got in on my dad before he got the knife away from me did make a huge mess, and I ended up breaking the jar of peanut butter I had run to the pantry for and threw at him as I screamed my displeasure.
Pity it was all such a waste.  The damn peanut butter got blood in it!
Anyway, I had a nice place to stay now and they brought me my PB&J every day at noon.  The man in the nice white suit slides it under the door to me.  I think he might be a little afraid of me since I had also stabbed his friend for bringing me plain jam on bread when I first got here. 
You’d think they would learn. 

~Dolly Big Momma

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