Hoho..

After filling out form Q-37/A/3 (otherwise known as "Grocery List, Additions To") in triplicate and petitioning humbly, I was rewarded with a triple-pack of Pink Peeps on the last grocery run. Great chaos and disorder during the day was avoided by the simple expedient of hiding the Pink Peeps until (drum roll...) "Dada Gets Home," that exciting event that happens five times a week and drives the Monkey Trio into near-hysteria. Anyway....

So, I stagger in the front door, plant a big sloppy one on the Lady of the House (a.k.a. the Pink Peep Procurer - tell THAT to the D.A.), and am presented with 18 (count 'em) Pink Peeps. They looked so sweet and angelic, sitting there waiting for the Apocalypse.... then, the Three Monkeys (daughters aged 10, 7, and 5) started circling like sharks. "What ARE those things? Are they good to eat? Can we have some? I'm going to give one to the CAT!" General hilarity ensued, and then I got everyone's attention with a Sweeping Dramatic Gesture(TM). [OK, so I farted. Sue me. It worked.] In the stunned silence that followed, I announced that the Pink Peeps were headed for a FATE WORSE THAN DEATH! "No, my children," I intoned, "the Peeps are not here to sacrifice their all for the sake of Wholesome American Sticky-Sugary Easter Time Fun, but to be the subjects of HORRIBLE BODILY DESTRUCTION RESEARCH in the ***!!!MICROWAVE!!!***" [Ooo, Ahhh! Dum-dum-DUUUUMM!!]

They considered this for a moment, then exploded in a rush of chatter. "Will it catch on FIRE? Will it 'SPLODE into PIECES?" The youngest piped up, "You better not make a mess, or Momma'll BEAT YOU TO DEATH!" I assured them that we would be Most Careful and Hygienic about the whole process, because no one wants Momma to BEAT THEM TO DEATH, although from the threats that go flying down the hall at bedtime, each and every one of the Monkeys gets BEATEN TO DEATH at least twelve times a WEEK, but that's another Story.

So, off goes the Peep Death March into the kitchen in search of a Plastic Plate of DESTRUCTION! The children marched along, singing happy songs and chanting "NUKE THE PEEP! NUKE THE PEEP!" while I chuckled along looking like Ward Cleaver with 18 sets of beady little Peep Eyes admiring my Resplendent Suburban Grandeur (Call now! Not sold in ANY store!)

I ripped open the first box, cruelly ripped a Peep away from its five litter-mates (those things have got some kind of Siamese twin thing going there, looks like) and asked it if it had any Last Words. Strangely, it remained totally silent as I placed it on the Plastic Plate of DESTRUCTION and set the microwave for TWO MINUTES at FULL POWER! We crowded around the microwave like the classic American nuclear family, all jockeying for position to watch the PUBLIC DISMEMBERMENT of a virtual Cultural Icon of the Easter Season, chanting "NUKE THE PEEP! NUKE THE PEEP!"

The Peep bravely waited in darkness, thinking whatever sugary thoughts Peeps think when the end is near, and then I PUSHED THE BUTTON! Deadly radiation sleeted through the Interrogation Chamber - the Peep puffed itself up with Peeply pride as it took the first Harmful Rays - it grew to TWICE NORMAL SIZE, a veritable UberPeep - and then, as its triumphant spirit grew and flourished under the electromagnetic assault, its very BODY split ASUNDER and a startlingly huge gobbet of Pink Peep Guts erupted all over the Plastic Plate of DESTRUCTION. Frothy, bubbling insides covered the Pink Sugary Frosting, and the Evil Experiment continued until the foamy mess started to char and emit Wisps of Pink Peep Death Smoke. At that point, I cut the power - after all, I wouldn't want Momma to BEAT ME TO DEATH.

Throughout the ordeal, the gallery was strangely quiet, thinking deep thoughts about personal mortality and wondering how on Earth the Pink Peep Engineers crammed that volume of Foamy Guts into the cute little Peeps. When the smoking remains were finally hauled out and the stench filled the kitchen, we gathered round the Plastic Plate of DESTRUCTION and paid our last respects to the Pink Peep that had made the ultimate sacrifice for the Cause of Science. It was a very draining experience (especially for the Peep) all around.

I debated saving the other Peeps for further Diabolical Experiments, but the Monkeys threatened to rend me limb from limb if I didn't let them have some Peeps to Eat. Amid shouts, curses, rent plastic wrapping and showers of Wholesome Sugary Frosting (not to mention dire warnings about Eating the Peeps Before Supper and getting BEATEN TO DEATH), the kids inhaled the other 17 peeps in about eight seconds flat. Nerves of steel, they've got -- moments after watching the Unlucky Peep blow its guts all across the Plastic Plate of DESTRUCTION, they happily wolfed down the rest of the Peep clan. Genocide in the kitchen, it was, complete with a Notorious War Criminal and a Microwave Death Chamber.

Ahh, life in America! Ya gotta love it!

But, wait! There's still time! Easter is a month away, so I've got time to rustle up a nice plump herd of BLUE peeps and continue my Vital Research! Wonder what will happen if I put the oven on 'Defrost' and try zapping in short bursts? Will I be able to unleash a perfectly- formed GIGAPEEP, or will my hapless victims all just spew their insides? Inquiring minds want to KNOW!