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It started when I want into the back yard barefoot, despite the snow, and stepped on something sharp. A few somethings sharp. Turns out they were fangs, and they were attached to hams.

Then we had to stop putting out kibble for stray cats. The fanged hams kept eating it, then sharpening their fangs on the corner posts, eventually brought the structure down.

Next we had dawn visitations by sasquatches sporting a gibbon on each shoulder. They seemed to be curious about the pool, eventually urinating in it. Somehow, the whole pack of them squeezed into a 1968 MGB/GT, and took off towards the mills. There's trouble at the mills, you know? One of the flayrods... ach, never mind.