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Most Likely Candidates For Trump’s Cabinet

If elected president, Donald Trump will have the opportunity to nominate up to 15 cabinet members, each advising him on executive departments. Here are the most rumored choices for Trump’s inner circle.

Cake Just Sitting There

Take It

CHICAGO—Assuring you that there was nothing to worry about and not a soul around who would see you, sources confirmed Tuesday that a large piece of chocolate cake was just sitting there and that you should go ahead and take it.

Siblings Each Hoping Other One Will Take Care Of Aging Parents Someday

CLEVELAND—Explaining that they simply didn’t want to have to deal with the immense time commitment and emotional exhaustion, sisters Katie and Ellen Cattell each privately admitted to reporters this week that they were hoping the other sibling would someday be the one to take care of their aging parents.
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Home At Last

For the first time in several months, I woke to find my-self back in my dank, urine-smelling bed-chamber at the Zweibel Estate. How glorious a sight to be-hold! For a second, I almost believed that my horrific experiences were but a terrible night-mare, yet I was almost mad with joy to be reunited with the many possessions I had once so taken for granted. Hello, big stuffed moose head! Hello, chafing-dish! Hello, meerschaum pipe! Hello, blotting paper! Hello, armoire! Hello, cupsidor! Hello, iron-lung! Hello, enema-bulb! Hello, socks!

I wished to find out the latest developments in the wake of my rescue, so I summoned my man-servant Standish. I was pleased to receive the news that my nemesis and kidnapper, Black Scarlet, or as he is better known, "Freddie Mercury," had already been convicted in a swift trial and sentenced to 4,800 years in prison with no possible hope of parole. Apparently, this crushed his legions of fanatics and hangers-on, who had learned only recently that he was still alive. But I was jubiliant. Haven't I always insisted that all enemies of the Zweibels meet ignoble ends?

How-ever, to my deep chagrin, the wicked ro-bot Mr. Tin, who supplied Black Scarlet with the where-abouts of my fortune, is still at large, and has not been seen since he fled the law with the assistance of fire-shooting propelling devices on the bottoms of his massive metal feet. Who knows what nefarious plans for revenge are whirling in his sinister metallurgical brain!

Standish also told me that there was a victory parade in the village near the estate commemorating my triumphant home-coming. There were marching bands, horses, balloons, and ticker-tape, and I my-self was propped up on a float gayly decorated with magnolia boughs and colorful ribbons. Unfortunately, I was comatose at the time, and have no recollection of the event. A pity, as I love parades.

I have decided to write a book about the traumatic events of these past few months. Standish suggested I give it the some-what droll title of Zweibel's Travels, but I prefer A Shocking True-Life Account Of My Sudden Plunge Into Poverty, My Grievous Exile, And My Subsequent And Thrilling Recovery And Restoration Of My Wealth, And How You Never Lifted A Single Finger To Help Me Even When I Was On Death's Very Door-step, You Filthy Cock-suckers. Yes, I'm talking about you! I learned many important lessons during my wanderings, but the one I shall remember most is that you are all a bunch of heart-less swine. Screw you all to the last man!


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