In his most escharotic cacology since the award-winning "tablecloth novel" for children, BLARGVAAR, THE UNHAPPY SPERM WHALE, author Crad Kilodney, theologian, psychopath, and registered mortician, delivers up his most poignant gasbags.

Suburbanites want to know, "Is my brain a thing, or what? Can I change it? What if it breaks? Can I return it for a different color?"

These and other are liturgical pontifications are addressed in SUBURBAN CHICKEN STRANGLING STORIES. But as Aristotle once said, "I owe you nothing. Go away. I eat your face." And just as the luna moth of idiocy orbits the streetlamp of nihilism, so do the violent surgeons of Art and the New Age centipede men meet on the great battlefield of corn, testing whether this nation, so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure.

Now you will find all four types of sentences and all eight parts of speech. Here you will find your lost car keys. Here you will find sanity. We need your money to buy cigars for orphans. We have not changed our underwear in seven weeks. The stink of decay is everywhere, not just in your mind.

Chickens know the world will end. This is why they cut off their own heads and jump into the deep-fryer. It will be a dark and stormy night filled with clichés. The air will be full of bats. Bad haircuts will rule.

So feel free, free to try something new, free to live life for you. Stick your head in the television and electrocute yourself.