The $afe house

Our new $afe house in the subconsciousness was a 209th century victorian manor house, built by a boffical sounding soul named hugh januss.

However delightful that might seem, iwas was starting to become tired of the house and so left The Mysterious stranger writing html/java script on the 209th century trapdoor that led down to the cellar.

As i flounced camply down the street i laughed at a dirty joke we had told many of our teachers that day at school, when someone yelled
''GRENADE!!!''
"Oh, pool" i exclaimed, as the 209th century fragmentation grenade exploded, firing schlongpnel everywhere, including into me.

But of course, flo's blazer saved my sorry ass, and i returned to the $afe house finally understanding how important it was that i kept ice cream free from the nighly misdemeanours of a whirlwhind of unpredictable monkey wearing 209th century vases on their dear little heads (both).

Thank goodness for $afe houses.