Literature
The Most Terrible Weapon
The Most Terrible Weapon Yesterday, as I was pouring myself some coffee, I witnessed, on the edge of my periphery, my brother in law bending over. And there, ladies and gentlemen, was buttcrack. My pupils dilated. The rest of the world seemed to disappear. There was only myself and the buttcrack. You see, I am deeply amused by buttcracks and if I spy one, it cannot go unremarked upon or unbothered. If I am very familiar with you and your personal boundaries, you might just end up with something in there; a lint roller, a shoe, a note that says "wash me", a sign that says "VACANCY", or something of equivalent ridiculousness. Knowing my BIL's proclivity towards dropping ice cubes down the shirts of unsuspecting victims… I. COULDN'T. NOT. Thus, I shut the refrigerator door ever so gently and pressed the pedal to summon forth a single ice cube. With the grace and surety of a panther, I slunk forth. A quick hook of a finger and the deed was done. "GYAH!" he cried, as the frigid cube