The grenade settled into place only feet

The grenade settled into place only feet away from him. That it had landed in the mud granted a rare opportunity for it to be returned to its owner. I crouched, calculating the

effects of my farting just about then. I wasn't expecting an attack of flatulence, however I had eaten beans within the last 24 hours and I find that I simply can't escape the

consequences of microbial flora and fauna. A human body is made up of more parasites and symbiotic bacteria and viruses than it has human cells. The thought made me ponder

whether this means I am the ruler of my own self-contained kingdom. And by "kindgom," I mean my bacteria-ridden body. That's fine, I could live with being king of my own parasites.

But want I lusted after was to rule the Magic Kingdom. They fired me because of uncleanliness? Have they seen the handles on the Dumbo ride. Well now I can plot my revenge on

those damn "It's a Small World" puppets. Lacking the necessary parts for a flamethrower, I trudged into town on my Vespa

throwing care to the wind. The other members of my Hell's Angels chapter would just have to deal with my teal Vespa. I had stepped up. No longer on a hog, my 'porco' would

wow the West Hollywood crowd. A teal Vespa says 'eat me' like little else can. That's what my Hell's Angels brethren failed to grasp as they revved their hallowed hogs & dragged

chains that sparked in the night air. Overblown, like a Versace belt, he thought, with a touch of laughable, like Cousin Ed's trailer art. Nope, it's gotta end here. Vespa-style.

As he revved the engine he motioned to the brooding Italian woman nearby. Who boarded the scooter behind him, and together they drove into the sunset, gesturing wildly.