This reminds me of a story I once heard about a guy named Edgar who was known in our local area because he ate a lot of jello with cool whip in his backyard.

He had a two-toed cat named Julius who was fat as a badger. One day Edgar’s in the backyard eating jello like always, and Julius gets a call from Edgar’s mom Sandra.

“Come over here right now,” she says. “That house is haunted, and any minute you could hallucinate to death.”

“I’m a cat,” Julius thought. “How did I even pick up the phone?”

Then Edgar drops dead in the backyard from an aneurysm.

Julius lived three more days on jello packets before Sandra made it over. She found enough cash in a bunker to buy a bicycle-powered submarine.

Julius started work as a bank teller. Still can’t think about jello without tearing up.