“Don’t be mithering me, child”, said Grandma Chavez (actually spoken in pocho), as she rocked on the front porch of her tiny wood frame home, carefully knitting and purling a pattern being created in her mind, as she considered how she would stand fast against urban encroachment and the bulldozers that the developers were sending in the morning to desolate her beloved woodsy ravine, clearing the land to build a new baseball stadium which had been proposed to fructify their small part of the great city of Los Angeles by bringing thousands of tourists and fans to the area.

As I sat in my vibrating beanbag reading Volume 12 of Groovius Holmsteen's The Fructification and Desolation of the Nurbian Empire (which won the Itzhak Flurber Award for Revisionist History in 1992), I happened to glance out the window, where I saw my little daughter, Zelberta, mithering an anteater as the beast tried to hoover a hill full of ants into its protuberant schnozz; meanwhile Zelberta's twin brother Zelbert was micturating happily on a duck, sending lemon-yellow rivulets purling down the irritated mallard's once-proud feathers.