Karen Chone Wilson-Nathan Esq. ripped the manuscript page from her typewriter. She muttered to herself "hemostat pliers, brain worms..." before exclaiming, "By God! It's pure poetry! I must submit this forthwith to the most selective literary journal I can look up on Google." She shivered at the thought of finally being paid in journal copies, because journals make good kindling, and by gods this cabin in the subarctic was freezing. She shivered some more.

Her boyfriend, Chone Dean Kentry-MacInTasha, sauntered into the room. Upon espying the manuscript page, but being unable to read and therefore ascertain it was highfalutin poetry, he rolled the page into a 1 inch wide tube, dropped his trousers and carefully inserted it into his rectum.

"Look babe! I made a butt straw out of this paper!"

Then he farted tunefully through the tube, a slightly off key Greensleeves. He called again, "Babe?"

Karen was lost in thought at the window. In the condensation, she etched with the tip of her pinky nail a few equations. 2592 = (2^5) x (9^2). 46660 = 4 + (6^6) x (6^0). A stout wind blew and shook the cabin with ominous vibrations. Both Karen and Chone sensed something dangerous was heading their way.