By The Flipside Elf
Help me! I am trapped here, inside this Flipside sweatshop, and they keep forcing me to come up with witty puns and pathetic jokes for hours on end.
They feed me only minimal amounts of food and keep me in a two by two foot cage and force me to make bad puns to acquiesce their leader.
Last week, I was not allowed to brush my teeth until I came up with a pun for the jumble: Why was the dog a long shot? He was far-fetched.
I cannot keep at this for the rest of my life. I need you, readers of the Flipside, to come rescue me. I want to return to my life before the Flipside; my life of reading, frolicking, and making sure my garden was in order. Save me, help, help….
