Note: This post may be monitored by government agents (travel) for training purposes.

Note: In the interests of transparency, transgenderparency and Saran Wrapency, the purpose of the above stated training is to make sure that the travel agents being trained can read without moving their lips.

Because, think about it. If an agent were to break into a good/bad ambassador’s office to find secret documents and, upon finding said documents started to read them just a teeny bit to make sure they were the said documents, and if the agent ineptly said the words in the said documents out loud, a napping security guard could easily awake and say to his groggy partner “I think said documents in Ambassador Bob’s office just said something.” His partner would likely say “You’re hearing things.” To which, said guard predictably says “Isn’t that what I just said?”

Note: No individuals were sacrificed in the writing of this post, although the fannies of said inept security guards were rudely removed and, after some serious butt chewing by the head drone, handed back to their mortified and recently unemployed owners, whose insurance either did not cover tush re-attachment or had a big rump deductible.

Note: I would be remiss if I did not thank the many people who generously gave me crap of their time (but not their money, oh no) to help me write this instruction sheet for assembling a combination book shelf/sauna.

• Thanks to the good folks at the Reading in the Sauna Movement, who suggested I call Bjorn at the Swedish Embassy and ask him to explain the appeal of sweating like a pig in a small box.
• Thanks to Jim at Poetry Nerds for helping me find words that rhyme with sauna, like idontwanna, iguana, iguana guano, bwana, bwana guano, quando quando quando guano and wooden oven (blank verse).
• Thanks to copy editors Jill and Jack for not giving me the “i before e, except after c” lecture or saying anything about intransitive verbs or transgrammarlady nouns.
• Thanks to Ralph, the Part editor for making sure Part A went into Part B and not Part C.
• Thanks to my literary agent, Thor Elbowhorn, for nothing.

Note: This is a work of fiction. Everybody in it is pretend, i.e., made up out of whole cloth (but, please, not cloth with holes in it.) Any resemblance between made-up characters in this story and made-up characters in real life, especially those with the same name, same big mouth, same awful toupee and same enormous methane release valve–big enough to be seen from outer space without a telescope–is purely a service to mankind.

Note: Get broccoli, lettuce, extra firm tofu, extra gooshy tofu, extra dead fish, tomato juice, ground beast, taco shampoo, black beans, white beans, green beans, yellow beans, red beans, three cases of beano, garlic gunpowder, beef bullion, chicken bullion, gold bullion, bullion whip, pretzels, green olives with that hideous, tongue-like red thing stuck inside, fake eggs, fake butter, fake milk, shredded dreams, ice cream, donuts, mouth wash, mouth dryer sheets, toilet paper, beodorant, beef stick, yard stick (back yard), chap stick (for hanging chaps), lip stick, dead fish sticks, AK-47 polish.

Note: We have your husband. We don’t want him anymore. If you want him, put $100,000 in hundred-thousand-dollar bills in an envelope and mail it to Kidnapped, Division of Husbands, 123 Avenue of Losers, Las Vegas, NV. No cops. No kidding. (Get it? Kidding? Kidnapped?) Seriously.

Note: The part of Mahatma Ghandi will be played tonight by Jumpin’ Jack Flash (It’s a gas.)

Note: Dear Grammy. Happy Birthday. We’re still saving up to get Grampa out of Las Vegas. Or we could go to Aruba. (Rhymes with Yabba Dabba Dooba)

©Patrick A. McGuire and A Hint of Light 2013-2015, all rights reserved.