As far as tikes go, Johnald was a wee bit irregular. For one thing, he had an Amrope coming out of his head. You may be wondering, "What is an Amrope?" I won't piss on you for wondering that. Actually, it's like an antenna, but it's got some mold on it. It's not something you buy at a store, maybe you do buy it in a store.

"Johnald?" yelled Mrs. Amrope.

"I'm combing my hair, leave me alone."

"Oh, well you're not going to comb that hair in the kitchen!"

"I need to do it here because the Amrope gets greasy, and the only way I clean it is with some of your cooking tools."

"Johnald, don't use those tools for that. It's sick. By the way, I got us fair tickets, let's go to it. Now." And they were off. Soon they found themselves on a merry-go-round.

"Hey! You! What's that moldy antenna on your head?"

"It's my Amrope, don't make fun of me." At the fair, later that day, someone else also made fun. The same thing happened at school.

"No, you have to carry the denominator and place it behind the other number," said Ms. Baby, "and take that thing off your head, Johnald, before I call Principal Ope."

"I can't, it's built in."

"Johnald, I want you out; now."

Later in life the same problems plagued Johnald, even at Thanksgiving dinners.

"Could you pass the turkey?"

"I don't think so."

"I am Johnald, Johnald with the Amrope, and I feel I deserve some Turkey."

"We're kidding you, Johnald. You've aged, but I still kid you, and I still wonder about your moldy antenna."

"Who are you?" asked Johnald.

"I'm Uncle ATTLINGBURGER."

"You never met Uncle ATTLINGBURGER?" asked Mrs. Amrope.

"Can't say I have." returned Johnald melancholifully.

"Well this has been a lesson to all of us," said Uncle A. "I think we have all learned, the hard way, I might add, that it's not appropriate to make fun of someone's moldy antenna."

"Well, it seems that all's well that ends well," added Mrs. Amrope.

"I'm happy, " exclaimed Johnald.

"Good," they all said in unison. And for the rest of their lives the whole family talked in unison only. It sounded odd as hell, but if one Amrope person talked, they all did.

"Well, I guess we're doing fine," they all said in unison at a future Thanksgiving dinner.

And thus ends a bitter-sweet tale of woe. One guy, born with an atrocity, finds peace. The whole family, even Mrs. Baby, and ol' Uncle ATTLINGBURGER, they found peace too. What's more, it seems they learned a lesson. And it seems that lesson is a lesson that they will never forget. And it seems that if they do forget, that they won't forget for long. And it seems that if they do forget for long, then at least one of them, like maybe Uncle ATTLINGBURGER, won't forget. It seems that at least he would remember. If no one else remembers, than Mrs. Baby could, she's got a swift mind. It's a remembering mind, a mind that, as they say, doesn't forget. And it makes sense that it wouldn't forget. It's just a mind, it remembers, that's what it's for. And even if it forgot, there's other organs that, in some ways, have memory. Like now they say that a fist has memory. The moral here is that various parts of the body can also have memory, and I don't mean just the fist. I mean, really lots of stuff has memory. Different kinds of stuff can have memory. Stuff remembers. It remembers stuff. That's what it's for: remembering. Things are for something, and it all goes to show that somethings are for remembering, not just anything. Things aren't just for anything. Things are for something. A thing is for a thing. It is a thing. Things are themselves. They equal one another. Thing = thing.