I made plans to indoctrinate some 4-11 year olds this afternoon and was in a hurry leaving the house, so despite discovering a cheeky box of white chocolate fingers in the cupboard I left for "work" hungry. When darkness fell, a few hours after i'd eaten my tea, it dawned on me that something was missing, I was not completely satisifed, this was not hunger just a yearning for something...but what? Then it came to me, like Roofies at a house party; the fingers! That's what was missing from my stomach. My subconscious had remembered and looked forward to them all day and, probably because my conscious-recall had crashed while the subconscious had just grabbed the wheel, before I started walking in circles singing the theme song from Love Boat, it was so clear what I truly wanted. I skipped down the stairs like a happy little child on chrismas morning only to be sorely dissapionted. The parallel between me and the child could still exist if you imagine that upon reaching the ground floor the child was greeted by a bearded, hook-handed gentleman who professed that during the child's sleep islamic fundamentalists had won the War On Terror thus abolishing all christian holidays in what would later be referred to as, "Allah's great adjustment"...
...To my horror the box was empty but for one clattering finger which mocked me as I tried to wriggle my furious hand into the impractically narrow box. I was irate. That box was full when I had left the house that same day. I wanted to interview every member of my family, find the person responsible, chop them into finger sized rectangles, dip them in white chocolate, and, yes, you guessed it: use them to gain access to the Vatican in a Trojan Horse style attack that basically ends with the Pope being a arrested for cannibalism. However, I chose not to do that today because I already offended a major world religion in the previous paragraph.
After i'd calmed down I found a Dairy Milk and watched a film about a serial killer which soothed me back to my reasonable self. The point i'm trying to make any way is that if Brian Blackwell's defence for murdering his parents had been because they had eaten all his chocolate and he had refused to be tried until the jury consisted of only mentruating hungry women then he probably wouldn't have to study for his law degree in the shadow of a thrusting felon, being constantly referred to as 'Curly Sally' and using his own teeth as paper weights.
Don't hack your parents to death with a claw hammer,