It's long after midnight, and we are now into the wee hours of the new year. Mom and dad arrive home from a night of hard partying to find that their son Timmy is still awake. "Happy New Year, bud! Hey now, what the heck are you still doing up?" asks dad, followed by a few drunken hiccups like you'd see in an old cartoon. "I can't sleep," whines Timmy, "tell me a story." "Your dad is in no shape to be telling you stories, Timmy!" warns mom, as she stumbles into the coffee table. "What? Nahhh, I'm fine," says dad, wavering a bit while loosening his tie, "You come on upstairs with me, my boy, and I'll tell you the single greatest story you've ever heard in your life!" "Alright!" exclaims Timmy. "Uhhh boy..." groans mom. Upstairs, Timmy hops into his Howdy Doody sheeted bed, dad lowers the light. (Mom passes out halfway up the steps.) "You're gonna love this one, Tommy..." slurs dad, sounding way too much like W.C. Fields. "My name is Timmy..." says Timmy.
"I call this one..."
(Actually from the November 1951 issue of Witches Tales #6)