it begins a run-on sentence whose center

it begins a run-on sentence whose center holds, itself a long run-on sentence capable of folding on to itself twice-over when you consider it a tale of a single man single-handedly

singling out a few crispy singles at the single's bar so he could make it rain on the dance floor like the way he saw one of his fellow grammarians get down at the club when they

had too two many drinks. Shameful, really. They'll regret that decision in the morning, no doubt, he thought. Then another thought: "I'm too sexy for my pants." Grammarians rarely

subject themselves to such banal thoughts, but in this case, it was apparent that this was not an ordinary night. One more drink might not be such a bad idea after all, especially

since someone else was paying. One more drink was not a bad idea. Two more -- not bad, but not good. Three -- entering hazard zone. But it wasn't until the 23rd drink that things

Started to fall apart right before my eyes. It was so Ballardesque that I was longing for my car so I could escape. It was in the car park...

I ran like my life depended on it. I was suddenly regretting skipping gym all those years. I reached the car and yanked it open, but they had already caught up to me and were going

through my pockets looking for candy and loose change. That was the last straw. Bruised and beaten, I stormed up to Miss Heather's preschool and demanded to see the principal.

The principal agreed to meet with me. i showed him my bruises and empty pockets. He laughed and said, "kids will be kids," then turned away, sprouted wings, and flew off into the

closed window, busting his pride and turning him into an orange turnip. We called him Mister Dumpf and took control of his billion-dollar empire. We bought books for the library!