A very large pumpkin stood up. "I propose that we should fight using math as our weapon," he said. "Not only is it powerful, but few people understand how it works."

An overgrown bedroom slipper yelled, "The gourd is correct! We can boggle the enemy with numbers, lines, sectors, and shading. Angles, proofs, conic sections, and signs. Inequalities, too! And transformations, biconditional statements, and egg-covered basements. These are all great weapons!"

The group chattered excitely. Perhaps there was a solution to their problem. Maybe everything would turn out all right, just maybe. It seemed too good to be true.

Suddenly, Aristotle jumped up. She turned to Krueger, who was lounging about the ceiling. "FREDDY!" she shrieked. "Mom's gonna be home any minute, and we haven't burned the dinner yet! Come on!" She ran out of the room.

Freddy Krueger was really tired. After all, he bopped in the treetops all day long. It was bound to make anybody exhausted. He sighed and flew out the door after his master.

The aforementioned orange squash of ample proportions laughed hysterically. This failed to frighten the parasite stationed, as usual, on his stem. The parasite was really a very nice one. His name was Bob. Bob continued to eat his cheese and crackers placidly.

After the pumpkin calmed down, he pulled out a handkerchief and began polishing himself with dignity. Everyone knew immediately that he was thinking and fell silent.

"I think," he began, "that my name is Curly." He paused thoughtfully. Everyone sat with their mouths hanging open, since they were in great awe of his superior intelligence.

"Ahhhhhh," they breathed. Curly smiled and took a few more swipes at the top of his shell. The crowd gazed at him with dopey loving eyes. Curly preened a little, then stuck his handkerchief inside a pocket of his absurd assumptious apocalyptical tuxedo.

Zacki squealed. The tuxedo was shimmering with very loud colors. Bob was dropping crumbs all over Curly. BAMBLASHOOREENOOOEEOOEEOONEET!! The spell was broken. teeny tiny Christeeny stepped out.

All the objects screeked. "Aggghhh!"

teeny tiny Christeeny stopped in her tracks. "Why are you screaming?" she asked. She frowned in confusion.

Everyone thought. "Uhhhhh...for some reason." they answered hastily.

teeny tiny Christeeny's friend, Lindsey, walked in. "Double T? Whay's going on in here? Your Moyher's on yhe phone." Lindsey never spoke the T sound. She was absent the day they learned it in kindergarten.

Yhe main idea of yhis syory is: Helen can wriye a syory wiyh no main idea!