Helen Thomas is sitting on my bed next to my phone. Every time I try to grab it, she reaches out to me with some kind of hideous lobster claw. I don't know what to do.
She was here when I came back from the infirmary. I sneak down there every night and drink all of the NyQuil. -- I have the sniffles. Tonight, after the fourth time I drained the NyQuil bong Noel made for me (it's really cool--you pour a whole bottle in this funnel that's connected to a tube and then you raise it above your head and it shoots down your throat like chocolate milk) anyway, after I took my fourth hit, I noticed that the really good medicine cabinet was unlocked.
There were some really pretty pills in there. I wasn't going to take any, but President Lincoln said that I should -- he always comes around after my fourth NyQuil bong hit. So I took five and chased them with a final bottle of the big NQ before settling into watch the examination table for a while. I do that every night. It's surprising how interesting an examination table can be. Did you know they have stirrups? Sometimes, I get on it and play like I'm a cowboy, but usually, my sniffles make it too hard for me to stand up, let alone ride the examination table, so I just watch it.
Tonight a bunch of little tiny Ken Lays crawled out of it. They were all yelling that they wanted their money back. I told President Lincoln to make them go away, but he's a big wussy -- he even wears a wig. We argued for a few minutes, but by that time, the Mr. Lays had made their way up to me, and they were carrying a big bear trap thingy they called a "subpoena". That was enough for me. I turned tail and ran all the way back to my room.
Now I'm here and Helen Thomas is there next to the phone. I'd like to go sleep in Mrs Laura's room if she'd let me, but I'm just too afraid to move.
Please call Mr. Rove for me.