Ghost-Buster

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How To Talk To Your Child About Death

When your family has experienced a loss, it can be a difficult concept for young children to process. The Onion breaks down the best ways to converse with your child about the realities of death

Jayson Werth Catches Foul Ball Without Spilling Beer

WASHINGTON—In an incredible play that drew cheers from the whole stadium, Washington Nationals left fielder Jayson Werth managed to catch a foul ball Tuesday night without spilling the beer he was holding in his other hand.

NASA Deploys Congressional Rover To Search For Funding

WASHINGTON—Calling the program “the most crucial in the agency’s history,” researchers at NASA announced Wednesday they have successfully deployed a Special Exploratory Rover to Congress as part of an open-ended mission to seek out any possible trace of funding on Capitol Hill.

What The Planet Will Look Like In 2100

As scientists try to project the effects of climate change into the future, many of these forecasts only go as far as 2100, a year beyond which the alterations to our environment become much harder to predict. Here is a breakdown of what we can expect our world to look like in 2100
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Just Like Everything Else!: Fox 8 p.m. EDT/7 p.m. ABC Pete's wife is still on him about building that darn shed, these kids are going to be the death of Sheila and Dave, and the hot next-door neighbor is up in EVERYBODY'S business! Sunday nights on ABC couldn't be any more familiar!

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House and Home

Deadline For Prior User To Remove Clothes From Dryer Extended 5 Minutes

JOHNSON CITY, TN—Upon finding the machine in her apartment building’s laundry room completely untouched since she last stopped by, exasperated local woman Sandra Hermus reportedly mounted all her magnanimity Monday and extended the deadline for the previous user to remove their clothing from the dryer by five minutes.

Good Times

Ghost-Buster

I'm sick and tired of ghosts visiting my bed-chamber. At first, I admit, it was terrifying. Then, it became endearing. But now, it is down-right tire-some.

First, the ghost of my father, Herman Ulysses Zweibel, manifested himself above my four-poster death-bed, cackling wildly and rattling his chains. My horror knew no bounds. Mortified, I begged for his mercy, but he only cackled some more.

He kept cackling. And cackling still. It was so infectious, I could not keep a straight face. So I began to cackle, or at least offer up the closest thing to a cackle my near-ossified vocal cords could muster. We both kept cackling on through the night. It was a charming moment that only a long-dead father and his near-death son could share.

As I cackled, I began to realize that there wasn't a lot that Pater's ghost could actually do except float around, rattle his chains, and cackle. My fear gave way to not a small amount of disappointment. I stopped cackling and drifted off to sleep. When I awoke, Pater's ghost was still there, hovering above the bed and staring at me blankly.

"Can't you at least knock over the armoire or make a window slam shut, or some such haunting-action?" I demanded.

"No," he replied. "The chains limit my mobility."

As the weeks drifted by, Pater continued to hover about my bed-chamber, occasionally moaning or shaking a chain or two. Then, one day, I heard an unearthly moan quite unlike the whimpers emitted by Pater. Suddenly, before my eyes appeared the ghost of my one-time bosom friend and business associate, the ruth-less steel magnate J. Titian McBrodie.

"A WARNING FROM BEYOND, FRIEND ZWEIBEL!" McBrodie's ghost bellowed. "REPENT YOUR EVIL WAYS OR SUFFER AN ETERNITY IN HELL-FIRE!"

My blood ran cold, and my mortal fright returned in full force. "J. Titian!" I cried. "Your ghostly warning has served as a bracing wake-up call to me! In my remaining days, you have my solemn word, I will try my best to make up for my century of sin and wrong-doing!"

"JUST KIDDING!" McBrodie's ghost replied. "THERE'S ACTUALLY NO HELL AT ALL! HEAVEN EITHER! I WAS JUST FUNNING YOU! HOW THE DEVIL ARE YOU, ZWEIBEL OLD CHUM?"

I was so filled with disgust that I could scarcely speak. Instead, I let the two monotonous apparitions hover about and compare boring notes with one another as I received my daily enema.