Yesterday, Deva posted: >Can someone come over and help me? I don't want to die laughing. My dear lady, I must disagree with you in the strongest possible terms. It is my treasured hope that one day, when I am old and bent and bedridden, a ferret will make me laugh so hard that I croak on the spot. I imagine myself in an assisted living facility at 102, found extremely dead, stiff as a board by some young candy-striper who cannot fathom the huge grin on my face. The clues will be there... the faint scrum of soft, gray hair on my blanket. The Frito-like scent that wafts through the air. The fact that my room-mate's dentures are missing...only an overturned glass of water and a puddle will remain where her dentures are customarily set to rest overnight on an end-table. Wet foot prints lead away, and disappear beneath the heaviest piece of furniture in the place. And once the candy-striper follows the trail, and gets down on her hands and knees to look underneath my only regret will be that I didn't live long enough to hear her SHRIEK as a damp weasel with an upper plate in its teeth explodes out from under the dark place beneath that enormous arm chair... Alexandra in MA [Posted in FML 6691]