I ran down the street, the broken beer bottles and homeless people crunching under my feet. My feet pounded the pavement like a fat woman in the grocery store pounding her child to get it to stop crying. Tinges of pain shot up through my boots into my toes into my nerve cells and through bioelectric signals to my brain, which in turn said, "Ow." I almost slipped over a pile of dead shrimp as I reached the end of the block and turned the corner.
I could hear the wings flapping behind me, a sort of unison of good and evil, the good being the gleeful flight which these creatures derived, the evil being their sadistic games and poor personal hygiene. I ducked into a nearby shop, until the owner, a small Turkish man of 35 years, began to yell at me about the store's "Don't Snort Turnips Unless You Plan To Buy Them" policy. I cursed at him with a voodoo charm that my kindly old nephew had given me, and knocked down a parrot cage as I ran out back in the street.
The reptile shop was ahead. Suddenly, an ice cream man jumped in my path, shouting something about a small boy. I followed him to his truck, where a young lad had been accidentally frozen in a vat of Chock-O-Chunky Ice Cream. I looked at the name on his library card as I stole his wallet, and then said, "Don't worry little Timmy, we'll have you out of there in a jiffy."
Suddenly, I had a plan. I told the ice cream man, "Friend, go round up all the dogs you can find! I have an idea." Well, sir, that guy found more dogs than you could believe! There must have been more of them suckers than all the aborted babies in China! I said, "All right, dogs, here's your plan! Timmy's stuck in this vat of ice cream, and we need you to lick him out!"
Those dogs got to work on that ice cream quicker than flies on a fresh steaming pile of vomit in the school cafeteria! Before you knew it, those pups had licked little Timmy to safety! And there he was, laughing and giggling and petting all of the dogs, and the dogs had big ice cream mustaches and they were jumping and wagging their tails and having a good old time!
Timmy said, "Can I have one of the dogs, mister? I've never had a dog before!" "Why, sure!" I answered. "Pick any one you want, you little scamp!" Timmy shouted "Hooray!" and picked the biggest, friendliest dog of the whole bunch!
About five minutes later, all of the dogs died because of the chocolate ice cream they had eaten. I was chatting with the ice cream man about the downfall of cheese production in the United States today, when all of the sudden there was a funny smell, and we looked up and saw fluffy carcasses lying all over the street, and little Timmy slowly walking up to us, a tear in his eye and a dog in his arms. "What happened to my dog, mister?" he asked, his little face streaming with tears. "Can you make him better, mister, can you?"
Well, I'm certainly no Jesus Christ, but I don't mind telling you I've performed a few miracles in my day. "Well, son," I said. "Lemme see what I can do." I set the dog down on the ground, and cracked my fingers. I rolled up my sleeves, and slowly passed my hand over the dog's rapidly-cooling body. I took my other hand and passed it over the pup in a reverse motion. I then stood up and brought my hands up into the air, and the dog levitated off of the ground. Timmy watched with awe-filled eyes, and the ice cream man was fairly impressed too. I then made a loop with my arms, and passed it around the floating dog. Then I slowly lowered my hands, and the dog settled peacefully to the ground.
Timmy looked at the dog expectantly, and then after a minute, shouted, "He's still dead! You didn't do anything!"
"Hey, I made the dog levitate, didn't I?" I shouted back. "What more do you want?!"