FK: Tell me, Ms. Jemima-
J: Call me Cultural Icon Jemima.
FK: Ms. Icon Jemima, what plans do yo and ben have for the future.
J: Well, either launch a line of discusting distilled rice syrup, or die miserably and alone. Utterly alone.
FK: That's facinating. Will I hear the pitter patter of little feet anytime soon?
J: Mooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!
By this time my deteriorating mental condition was really starting to get bad.
J: *Maggots flow from her mouth* Why are you talking to a box of pancakes? Why? Why?
At this point I woke up in a pool of blue paint, some of which I had eaten. The room was spinnng and I was, for no less than five minutes in a large golden room dancing the Tango with the melted face of Oscar Wilde. Fortunately, my clinical assistants were still in the house and managed to restrain me before I could "Set off the Doomsday device."
GOOD LUCK WITH THE HONEYMOON!