You don't know me. I'm the one that puts

You don't know me. I'm the one that puts that "Fruit of the Loom" sticker on those tidy whities you are sitting there in. Working at the computer in your underwear? I should

get you to set up a webcam. I want to watch you myself, see how you fill out those pants. It's my fantasy, you see. Hey, when you see nothing but underwear all day you start to

develop a taste for it, which may not be the healthiest of things to eat but does

look absolutely smashing when worn as hat. You really can't beat it. Slap a little of that fresh business on your head and your gonna be swimming in fin ladies. Thus explains

how Carlos came to be known as the world's first underage pimp; he hid his secret well away from the rest of the world, leaving them to believe that it was the jacket. Only later

would they all find the sad, disgusting truth as to how this 12 year old acquired all of those firearms, crack cocaine, and prostitutes, They never expected that

the 12 year old was actually a 500 year old immortal ancient master in disguise. The secret was that all those drugs and sex and killing were keeping him alive. His life goal was

to find out the meaning of life, living it in every way possible. Rock and roll? Been there. Glam-blues? Been there. Llama attendant? Been there. His training had prepared him.

His training had prepared him for everything life had to offer. His training had prepared him for everything life had to offer, and this was barely a part of life. Living this is

the worst experience known to man, yet he was somehow happy to see the end of the matter.