"Get off my wife, you Spartan dog!" cried the large man as he exploded into the bedroom. This outburst was instigated by the large man's observation that some strange person was in his own bed ruttin' on his wife like a goddam pig. With bushy moustache twitching frenetically and eyes beginning to convulse in the appearance of an epileptic fit, the large man, probably of hispanic origin, for he had fairly dark skin and black hair, tore the intruder from his disconcerted wife and began to pummel his head against the bed post. Rejoicing in the mindless repetition of the task, the large, hispanic man with the bushy moustache, who, might I add, had left only a crown of black hair around the equatorial area of his head, proceeded to beat the intruder rhythmically against the bed post for at least three minutes.

Dazed and drooling blood out the left corner of his mouth, the naked intruder managed to hustle out the open doorway to freedom, genitals slapping haphazardly as he ran.

Only after the husband had committed this heinous injustice did the wife inform him of his wrongdoing. "Dear, that was our Hand Groom. He was only trying to help." "Oh, I didn't realize," he finally managed to mutter, choked up by his egregious mistake and inexcusable rashness.

Needless to say, the Hand Groom did not survive. As a matter of fact he died just feet from the room of his bludgeoning when, in his hard-wood induced delirium, he lost his footing on the stairs and fell to an unfortunate demise.

The husband and wife never did have a child, (after you've killed one Hand Groom, they don't allow you to have another), and the distraught husband committed Hari-Kari in an act of self-retribution for his stupidity.

This probably all worked out for the best anyway because full-scale nuclear war broke out just days later, decimating the entire world.

But the wife performed a final act which is worthy of being remembered here. Lacking both husband and HandGroom, the wife went searching in desperate need of sexual release. She happened upon a missile silo, and, while working her magic on top of a warhead, Reagan pushed the big red button. The doors opened overhead but the wife was too engaged with her newly found love-partner to notice. Beneath her the engines rumbled and the stench of ignition fumes reached her nose, but she didn't care.

Finally the missile launched, piercing the wife all the way through in what she would have called the Ultimate Orgasm. As she was torn apart miles above ground, a superhuman cry of ecstacy burst forth from the very essence of her being, tweaking her vocal chords, maxing out her lungs, and vibrating her lips to achieve a harmonic perfection never before known to humankind. The wail of rapturous transport that flew from her mouth would have been heard for miles, if the din from the exploding bombs hadn't drowned it out--fitting that the acme of people's emotional expression should concur with our most reprehensible inhumanity.

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