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I Am Lost In My Mansion

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What’s Inside Trump’s Tax Returns

Donald Trump’s aides have confirmed that the Republican presidential nominee will not release his tax returns despite numerous public calls for him to honor the expectation of transparency for presidential hopefuls. Here are some of the potentially damning contents that Trump prefers not to release to the public

NASA Launches First Cordless Satellite

CAPE CANAVERAL, FL—In what experts are calling a breakthrough achievement that is poised to revolutionize American space exploration and telecommunications, NASA announced Friday it has successfully launched its first cordless satellite into orbit.

Hillary Clinton Holds Infant Grandson Upside Down By Ankle In Front Of Convention Crowd

‘Family,’ Candidate Says

PHILADELPHIA—Seeking to make her case to the nation’s voters as she accepted her party’s presidential nomination Thursday night, Hillary Clinton reportedly began her headlining address at the Democratic National Convention by holding her infant grandson, Aidan, upside down by his ankle and firmly intoning the word “Family” in front of the assembled crowd.

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PHILADELPHIA—Saying she arrived hours before any of the members of the production crew, sources confirmed Thursday that presidential nominee Hillary Clinton has been waiting in the wings of the Wells Fargo Center stage since six o’clock this morning to deliver her speech at the Democratic National Convention.

Depressed, Butter-Covered Tom Vilsack Enters Sixth Day Of Corn Bender After Losing VP Spot

WASHINGTON—Saying she has grown increasingly concerned about her husband’s mental and physical well-being since last Friday, Christie Vilsack, the wife of Agriculture Secretary Tom Vilsack, told reporters Thursday that the despondent, butter-covered cabinet member has entered the sixth day of a destructive corn bender after being passed over for the Democratic vice presidential spot.

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Cannon Overshoots Tim Kaine Across Wells Fargo Center

PHILADELPHIA—Noting that the vice presidential nominee had been launched nearly 100 feet into the air during his entrance into the Democratic National Convention Wednesday night, sources reported that the cannon at the back of the Wells Fargo Center had accidentally overshot Tim Kaine across the arena, sending him crashing to the stage several dozen feet beyond the erected safety net.
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I Am Lost In My Mansion

I was awakened suddenly this morning by the terrible sound of metal grating upon metal. When I opened my eyes, I was treated to the nightmarish countenance of Nurse Pin-head, who, brandishing a steam-fitter's wrench, was busy unbolting the great collar which holds me fast to my iron-lung.

It then occurred to me that this was the day the interior of my iron-lung was to be scoured with a cleansing solution of carbolic-of-lye. It's about time! It was getting awfully moist and sticky in there, and what-ever it is that's squirming about, it sure as hell isn't me.

My enormous nurse then used her unworldly strength to pry my age-raped body out of that metal womb and place me on my death-bed, which had been specially mounted with casters. In her deep voice, Pin-head told me I was to be wheeled into the basement hinterlands of the Zweibel manse, where I would be safe from the deadly carbolic vapors. Before I could protest, how-ever, Pin-head summoned my stable-boy, Augustus, and ordered him to escort me on this perilous outing.

The feared basement! I had heard my father talk of it on occasion. Many a legend has arisen from its clammy depths. Scaly serpents who can consume a score of men with a single snap of their jaws! Servants whose faces are on the middle of their torsos! And, most fear-some of all... a storied chamber in which recreation is practiced, allegedly containing a dusty old davenport upholstered in vulgar plaid, and a mysterious parlor-game known only as bumper-billiards!

Unfortunately, I saw none of these things. I say unfortunately, because the truth turned out to be far worse than the legends. The forgotten skeletons of the many enemies I had kidnapped and tortured grinned maniacally at me. Then, a mob of salamander-complected troglodytes swarmed about me and made off with one of my prosthetic ears. My wheeled death-bed soon broke down, and the stable-boy was forced to carry me. Finally, as we entered a great hall, paneled in blood-red leather and populated only by wax statues of Cotton Mather, Augustus dropped my carcass and fled shrieking. I was abandoned.

I write this in urine on scraps of skin cast off my consumptive chest, using the fairy-light given off by my body's decomposition. I have abandoned all hope of rescue. If anyone chances to find this note, to hell with the ungrateful lot of you, and death to that whoreson bastard Hearst!

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