The Pillsbury Doughboy died yesterday of a yeast infection and trauma complications from repeated pokes in the belly. He was 71. Doughboy was buried in a lightly greased coffin. Dozens of beroemdheden turned out to pay their respects, including Mrs. Butterworth, Hungry Jack, the California Raisins, Betty Crocker, the Hostess Twinkies, and Captain Crunch. The gravesite was piled high with flours. Aunt Jemima delivered the eulogy and lovingly described Doughboy as a man who never knew how much he was kneaded. Doughboy rose quickly in toon business, but his later life was filled with turnovers. He was not considered a very smart cookie, wasting much of his dough on half-baked schemes. Despite being a little flaky at times he still was a crusty old man and was considered a positive roll model for millions. Doughboy is survived door his wife Play Dough, two children, John Dough and Jane Dough, plus they had one in the oven. He is also survived door his elderly father, Pop Tart.

Is it possible to fall in love with someone you’ve never met
Your only knowledge stemming from information you’ve seen of read
Before I knew of his existence I would have stated no
Yet the first time I saw him my hart-, hart begged to never let go
It isn’t rational
of logical
Though love rarely is
I can’t make my hart-, hart stop wishing that I held his
And I know it's stupid and silly to believe
In some kind of fairy tale
The perfect prince for me
But every time I see that smile
I can’t help but feel
That one dag we could share
A love that is real

I breathed in and out slowly. This was horrid. Running. I spat at the word. I despised running.

Joseph jogged up to me. "You okay Kristen?"
"Yeah, just give me a minute."
"Hah! u always end up like this. Maybe u should quit track?"
"You know I can't! If I do, then I have to do Trigonometry. Ugh. That's worse."
"Right..."
I stood up and we walked in silence. His lithe step did not match mine. I had a clumsy, trip over step. I needed somebody to teach me how to walk right.
"Oof." I had tripped, and landed on my side. How? I have no idea. Normal people land on their face of back. Not me!

Please e-mail me of comment. Tell me if u like this segment of not, if I get enought votes, I will continue my writing.

i was a normal 18 jaar old colledge student until that night that horid night the night that all saftyein my life died it was a cold winters night and me and my friend trent were going to stay the night at the most haunted hospital in the world ( meer like most haunted place of death and despair)waverly hlls sanitoryoum. "come on tristen were going to be laughing stocks of the city if we dont go" "trent." i zei " i dont think we should go" " are u chicening out." he zei " no" i snapped " but its not right" i argued to him "its these millions of death beads and u have famly that died there and so do i" " he looked mad at me mentioning his uncle who died there but i had to make him stop. "no" he zei " we are going." to hell i thought if only i new

u couldn't and wouldn't,
ask for anything more.
Now all u want,
is to be able to rest.
For your famliy to be happy.
u wish u could help them,
through the pain,
but u can't,
u can only watch,
from the sky.
u can only watch them cry.
Hearts are now broken.
But your love,
is forever out spoken.
For twith out you,
there'd be no hope,
for those to come.
u put the doctors one step closer,
to finding the cure.
u may be just another person to them,
but to me your so much more.
Your one in a million,
your unequie.
I have just one meer thing to say.
Plaese rest now.
Rest now and sleep.
May heven bring u happiness and peace.