I Dislike My New Nurse

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Vol 31 Issue 20

Star Trek Introduces Alien Character With Totally Different Forehead Wrinkles

HOLLYWOOD, CA—In a move expected to spark debate and excitement among fans, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine producers announced Monday that next week a new alien character will appear on the show possessing "completely different" forehead wrinkles from those of any previous alien. According to make-up artist Rick Baker, "We're very excited to feature a character whose forehead wrinkles look nothing like those of either a Klingon or Romulan or Bajoran or Ferengi or Cardassian. They're like no other forehead wrinkles we've ever created."

Everything A Joke To Local Teen

KLAMATH FALLS, OR—It was revealed Tuesday that everything—from school work to Sunday church services, from requests to clean up his room to inquisitions regarding his future employment prospects—is a joke to area teen Denny Norris. "Everything's a joke to that punk," Denny's father, Walter Norris, said. "I asked him to mow the lawn two weeks ago, and just look at it. He'll go out with his friends, but when was the last time he helped out around here, for crying out loud?" In addition to categorizing all occurrences as jokes, Norris reportedly believes he is going to have it made in the shade forever. When asked for comment by reporters, Norris stated, "Yeah, I got a comment for you: Suck my ass." In speaking to the press, Norris did not identify himself by his given name, but rather by the alternate name of "Heywood Jablomi."

Rwandan Refugees Angered Over Lack Of AOL Access

BRAZZAVILLE, CONGO—A group of more than 100,000 Rwandan refugees, forced from their homes by war and ravaged by starvation, are now facing a new problem: the difficulty or outright inability to connect to America Online. "Last night I spent almost an hour trying to connect," Ndeti Mwana, 31, said, "and still I could not. I have not played NTN trivia in over a week." Countless other refugees are praying that they have not missed any important e-mail. AOL officials are working around the clock with the U.N.'s High Commission For Refugees to set up makeshift emergency e-mail stations along the Rwanda-Congo border. "I fear the gods have forsaken us," refugee Malanda Lumbushi said. "Will I ever chat with my e-pal, Vader1138, again?"

Heroin Chic

President Clinton spoke out last week against "heroin chic," the glamorization of heroin use through fashion ads depicting emaciated, strung-out-looking models. What do you think?
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I Dislike My New Nurse

Some time ago, my nurse, a custard-witted dullard with whom I had been long displeased, did me the injustice of aiding and abetting my despised arch-nemesis, Black Scarlet. As she rode off with him into the hills, it dawned on me that, for the first time in decades, I was without a nurse. And with my colostomy bag virtually overflowing, too! With her departure, who would now care for me?

My manservant Standish stepped in, but he proved too delicate for the job. Though taciturn and stoic as always, he was not accustomed to having yellowish fecal matter sprayed across his livery.

He was replaced by a capuchin monkey, and when I first laid eyes on it, I screamed like a lady. My son, V. Lucius, whose lame-brained idea it was to introduce the hairy abomination, said it had been specially trained to assist invalids. But the thing leaped about my bedchamber like a headless cricket, knocking over my armoire and my iron lung in a deafening crash. Then, eyes glowing like coals, he sprang on my bed, and as I shivered in fright, he flung off my bedclothes, lifted up my night-gown, and dumped an entire can of talc on my bedsore-laden bottom. It took four men to subdue the primate, and peace was not restored for several hours.

It was then decided that V. Lucius' physical trainer, Gus, would take on the duty of nursing me. Gus is one of those newfangled fitness proponents who believes that the maladies of old age are merely fanciful constructs of the mind which can be overcome with a hardy regimen of calisthenics. Let me say that I swiftly came to dislike my new nurse.

He rouses me from my slumber before the cock's crow, and promptly gives me a rub-down, slathering me head-to-toe with a stinking liniment that sets my skin aflame. Oblivious to my screams, Gus then dresses me in a sort of athletic union-suit, wheels me into the frigid morning air, and commences hurling a medicine-ball against my frail body. I can barely stay conscious as the ball strikes me repeatedly with the force of a cannon-shot; Gus yells at me to catch the ball, but how can I when most of my forearms have been eaten away by the leprosy? Can't this mad-man see that I am so old I'm almost transparent? How I dislike my new nurse!

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