Bim

So, the arts. Picasso and Shakespeare and all that crap. Yeah, that exists. Too bad we only have the old stuff to learn about, though. Seriously, waffle, no one ever gets to learn about new kinds of art nowadays. We're too stuck in the past, maaannnnblip. Look, something is wrong when there aren't anorexic students break dancing in the hallways. Furthermore, I can fit 36 preschoolers in my locker before the floor caves in, but where's the microwave? That's all I'm saying.

Anyway, it occurs to me that the Hamburglar must only steal ham, because otherwise he'd be the Hamburgerburglar. I can't say I blame him, and not only because there is an entire hamster in my mouth.

Who doesn't like ham?

My great aunt Maxwell, that's who.

Now listen. I know what you're thinking, and I don't like it. Shut up. Stop thinking thoughts before I duct-tape your brain with a plastic fork and start waving it around like some country's flag at the Olympics. Speaking of which, if I ever ran a country, I would name it Outland. That way, everyone from my country would have to speak with an Outlandish accent, wear Outlandish clothing, and support Outlandish ideals. Mine would be a country of Outlandish people. And I have devised the perfect government for Outland.

First off, there will be no crying. Your eyes will be drooling because they are hungry. Also, all black people will be replaced with other black people, and Outlandish clothing will be made of real clothes, and nobody shall be naked in any way. Even under their clothes, they shall be clothed. And there will be no bald people; we shall eradicate them all. And there will be exactly one political party: the Party Party. Yes. This country will be perfect. Not just the people, but all the buildings too, will have to wear silly hats. And everyone will say "bim," in every sentence. Because bim is a happy word. And no more of this "death" nonsense. Everyone will simply blink for an extended period of time.

Speaking of time, I've just killed some.

Let's polka.