Untrue in that the family sitting across from me looked nothing like these misshapen trolls. Sometimes the misanthropic cadre of disgruntled nerve bundles in my brain stages a coup and, as the gentle doe-eyed saintly soul that is the real me looks on helplessly, spews its virulent graffiti over the virgin page. And then returns control in time for me to hear: "Were you drawing us? Can I see?" And as I stammer my protestations, from somewhere deep inside the decomposing cauliflower of my brain come a delighted snicker.

Wow, I just had a psychological breakthrough: maybe this is why I like Snickers!