Only avoided the fate of Isadora Duncan because she was in an enclosed cabin far removed from any offending tires that might be lurking about. All this the Sleuth missed; lost in

miles beneath the skin; part of a DNA trip we are still on. Others claim a soul. One such was Brunhilde Maria Tallamontes. I didn't actually see it; I was there but that isn't the

Hoped. Mainly because Banksy gets all the press. Or the local taggers who don't remember their roots. Simple always gets complicated without roots. We come from the stars, why here

, like the one about the guy who put Steve Buscemi's face into every hotel painting he ever saw. I still check every hotel painting to see if it caught on. But that's another story

"...Red roses, too..." I said to myself again, interrupting myself. There seemed to be two of me, all of a sudden, and it was difficult to say which one was more rude.

-t one rip so hard that her mini skirt flew up in back. "Let that fix your little red wagon, you sexist jerk," she snarled as he gasped for air, "Women are not a commodity." With

breakfast spreads. She especially liked the ginger marmalade. Good old Grape Jelly was no match for the fancier spreads, and it fumed in the fridge until it grew mould and she had

male business with their scantily clad dames, but women were not so keen to give their money to the winking broads on the screen. "I don't think so, ho," they replied as they left

It turns out that they were fine, as were your '79s and '80s, but your '90s were a little rough on your hair. All that gel weighed it down and made it fall out into the grave

out in his yard by the rubber tree. The banana and the rubber tree grew side by side for many years and blossomed together until one day it occurred to him that the two trees

Out in the open he went, Winne the Pooh was not looking.

ity outside the pram. Grown but still in infancy. The reason for the war was a bowl of Chinese Chow Mein Soup, which was high on MSG and addictive.

So it was his name was declared to the nation, a nation in turmoil. A nation that only the greatgreatgreatgrandginger of Qwufdy could pilot through the perilous waters to Ararat IV

spoke about their destination in hushed tones; always just out of hearing. Clymenestra called it the Songline. She explained the Tinker's tale of The Lost and Last Song. She cried.

Easy. I would spike the Vagisil that those poor chickens were using on their feathered extremities and then the evil overlord would have a heck of a time getting them to nest.

to do as they were told, even if it meant cardiac arrest for the entire class. Well, we all laughed about it later in the teacher's lounge before we were sent to jail for

I am prized by the gods, who know me as Chaddus- the human who does not give a crap. I am very refreshing to them. I kick them in their celestial 'nads and make rude noises when

But we weren't going to pay for it because of political reasons we wouldn't go into when asked. We were outlaw pizza stealers, like Robin Hood and his merry pizza faces we roamed

However, my stoic ways forbid any such inquiry... Unless I get my hands on some top class nike shoes, and a dance trainer.

It was strange, they would listen to machinery grinding while jumping up and down wildly. The kids praised car crash and Michael Bay explosions. This was a religion?!