My Son! My Son!

In This Section

Vol 36 Issue 13

Eleven-Year-Old Has Miniskirt, Pumps, Vague Notion Of What Sex Is

EL CENTRO, CA–According to reports, area 11-year-old Brianna Kimble possesses a black miniskirt, red-vinyl pumps with two-inch heels, and a vague understanding of the concept of sex. "We're not supposed to cover that until the seventh grade," said Kimble, sporting a midriff-baring "Porn Star" T-shirt, "but I know it's got something to do with when you take off your clothes and do stuff with a boy. And I think I heard somewhere that you can catch, like, diseases from it." Kimble then applied copious amounts of Hello Kitty Glitter Gloss to her lips.

NAACP Demands Less Minority Representation On UPN

BALTIMORE–Decrying the strong presence of African Americans on such programs as Malcolm & Eddie, Shasta, and The Parkers, NAACP president Kweisi Mfume called Monday for a significant reduction in minority representation on UPN. "We must step up pressure on this network to decrease the visibility of our people," said Mfume, addressing the NAACP's Board Of Directors. "America is just 13 percent black, yet on these crappy shows, we make up a full 85 percent. This is utterly unacceptable." Mfume then called for a boycott of UPN until the network "severely underrepresents us."

Message Under Juice Cap Totally Applies To Area Woman

GOOSE CREEK, TX–An inspirational message printed on the underside of an Elliott's Amazing Apple Juice bottle cap "totally applies" to area resident Carole Smith, 38. "It says, 'Often the things we search for most are already here.' That is so true," said Smith, opening the bottle. "Like friends and family and stuff." Smith praised the juice cap as "so deep."

Spelling Error Leads To Elaborate Cover-Up Doodle

OREM, UT–A spelling error led to an elaborate cover-up doodle Monday, when Lisa Cone, 16, buried evidence that she had misspelled "your" as "you're." "Luckily, I was able to transform the 'e' into a cartoon face, using the loop in the 'e' as a nose and drawing eyes above it," Cone said. "I then got rid of the apostrophe by thickening the left side of the vertical line in the 'r' until it was swallowed up entirely."

Coworkers Unable To Put Finger On What's Weird About Gary

WANTAGH, NY–For the third straight week, Gary Thurlow's coworkers at Liberty Travel remain unable to pin down what's weird about him. "I can't quite put my finger on it," Jessica Spivak said, "but there's something kinda odd." Explanations have included his mode of dress, the way he sits, the tenor of his voice, and that thing he does with his hands.

Wall Street's Wild Ride

The Dow and Nasdaq have been extremely volatile of late, plunging one minute and soaring the next. What do you think of all the wild fluctuations on Wall Street?

Did Six Million Really Visit The Holocaust Museum?

Did six million people really visit the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum since it opened in April 1993? That's what the United States Holocaust Memorial Council would have you believe, and if all you've been exposed to is its Zionist propaganda, you probably do. But just how many people have actually passed through the Holocaust Museum's doors?
End Of Section
  • More News
TV Listings
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!

Special Coverage

Innovation

Small Business

My Son! My Son!

The Zweibel Estate is no longer merry and gay. The weeping willows droop even lower to-day. The milk-maids' tears mix with the milk in their buckets. Even the lowliest, most tooth-less field-hand is rending his thread- bare garments and howling in the most abject agony. Miss Bernadette Fiske, my fiancée and mother of my child, is no more! Having perished from the very femininity that I treasured above all else, she now belongs to the ages.

I, the bereaved swain, whose once-tender heart is love-sick, shall for-ever don a mourning shroud. Curse this moribund, woeful orb, where all that is beautiful and good is so cruelly ephemeral! t

So wracked with anguish was I that I begged to be buried with my deceased beloved. I wished to share her very coffin and be placed on top of her eternally slumbering corpse, ideally with her legs drawn apart a little. Alas! I was denied my request, and Miss Fiske's earthly remains were, I was told, interred at sea, as stipulated by her last will and testament.

I retired to my death-bed, determined to join her in short order in Heaven above. My attempt at expiration was short-lived, how-ever, when I learned that Miss Fiske's will granted me custody of the son I have never seen, N. Aeschylus. My son! My son! The sole product of the love between Miss Fiske and I would finally be coming to the Estate at last! From the grim sepulcher of Death emerged the promise of Life!

When Standish entered my bed-chamber to announce that my son was in the main sitting-room, my melancholy heart was leavened with joy. "Bring the dear tot to my bed-chamber, Standish, perambulator and all! I wish to hold him in my lap. But since my lap was surgically extracted long-ago, perhaps you could balance him on my shoulder!"

"Sir," Standish said, "I'm afraid that N. Aeschylus has rather out-grown his perambulator, or any other trappings of infancy, for that matter."

Before I could respond, a seven-foot-tall man in a black suit lumbered in. He was very broad in the shoulders and stiff in gait. His skin was bluish and looked as though it was stretched to the breaking-point over his squarish head. His gait was very stiff, and I could have sworn I heard a metallic squeaking noise every time his joints bent.

"My son!" I cried. "How you have grown since your December birth! But there's no mistaking it: From your piercing red eyes to the heavy iron feet emerging from your trouser legs, you're every inch a Zweibel!"

Next Story

Onion Video

Watch More