Treaties signed, the president walked down

Treaties signed, the president walked down the hall. Y2k had gone well and the American people were worried about almost nothing. The budget surplus and economic prosperity were

in the bag. Now he had time to whisk the motorcade over to Inglewood and visit a certain someone. "Certain Someone," as the voice males had said. He had never been certain in

ways the females weren't. The secret lie in the allure of a freshly de-nuded scrotum; that was the key to his super powers. Only one person new of this weakness and it was his

next-door neighbor who walked in on him one morning to borrow a cup of sugar. He silently cursed his love of naked house cleaning at that moment when Mrs. Beasley caught an eyeful.

He apologised profusely. 'I'm so sorry, Mrs B. I was just watering my window-box. I didn't realise you were down there!' The infuriated Mrs Beasley

shouted "That's no excuse! I'm gonna come up there and kick your ass!" He gulped. He ran and looked for a

rusty pipe-wrench. It'd have to do. He shouted for the offender's attention, be they were no where to be found. Cursing he searched the area but only found footprints leading to

The yellow brick road. When the criminal made it to the paving, the residues of mud were visible on his steps, but they fade with each step until

they had finally disappeared. Need to ditch these shoes he thought, as he walked in to the thrift store. I will just switch them out, leaving the evidence behind me. He entered

the back room to find Yin, the asian storekeeper, shaving her feet with a Ped Egg. The looked at me and