“You wanna set fire to my belly button lint? That’s fine just remember I don’t know what happens if you inhale the smoke,” Jezebel said to her sock puppet.

The puppet grabbed a pack of matches and said, “They do this on Sesame Street all the time when no none’s looking. So it should be alright.”

“OK,” Jezebel said as she dug out her belly button lint and loaded it into the bong.

The sock puppet took a hit and said, “Uh, what’s my name again? Lemme shotgun this shit for you.”

The puppet took another hit and blew it into Jezebel’s mouth.

“Wanna watch some Heathcliff videos online?” she asked.

“Did I put my Voltron condoms away?” asked the sock puppet.

“Yea. Wait, no. Do you mean inside my vagina?” Jezebel responded.

“Is that a historical question?” the puppet asked.

Jezebel began sniffing and said, “Something stinks.”

“That’s just me. I’m dying. I think I overdosed,” the sock puppet replied.

“Oh man this is terrible with a lower case ‘t’,” Jezebel said.

She looked at the sock puppet laying limp in her hand.

“Shit,” she said. Jezebel called 911 and told them, “My sock puppet’s dead. What do I do?”

She listened and said, “OK,” then hung up the phone. Jezebel took her shoe off and put the dead puppet on her foot. She then started her own blog detailing what to expect when your sock puppet dies.

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