Once in a Thai crystal palace there lived a young man who wished to one day be a monk. He chanted the mantra he had composed himself and written down in the black book every day , everyday, everyday he wrote the book. The budding monk gave me a longing look. I took my Nook and slid it under my arm, to keep it safe from harm. In his crystal palace, the monk got in a funk, he'd lost his spunk, and I'd lost my cranny. I thought, "Would a young monk in a funk with no spunk give a hootenany for a granny with a nook but no cranny ?" Anthony Kiedis considered Flea's statement, replying, "Funky monks would." "But they're aren't any monks in the band." They sighed melancholically, sharing froyo with Jared Leto. "Hey", began Flea, excited, "we've both dabbled in acting so why not get the whole band to act as if we have a hidden funky monk. If we act it just right we'll make it real. We can fake it 'til we make it like the solipsism that's so popular with the kids these days!" Flea kept raving happily, but Tick wasn't having it. He already WAS a bloodsucking parasite. "Flea my friend," Tick began as he reached over to clasp Flea's tiny shoulder, but before he knew it, Flea had fled. Tick was ticked. He had planned to suck the blood from Flea's feathers. "Not sure why Flea has feathers," Tick thought, "since he's-- well, presumably-- he's a flea. Welp. I guess we'll never know..." Meanwhile, Flea had fled far away to the Mother of Rivers, aka the Mississippi. Flea survived on red hot chili peppers and the meanness of family. He had tossed Tick from his mind. He resigned that memory to the forgotten area in his brain. Still, each time he heard a clock TICK-tock, heard the Beatles sing TICKet to Ride, or saw a baby TICKled, he panicked and developed…what else?...a facial TIC.

 

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