I returned home, that cold October day. I

'd blocked it out. All I know is that something happened. Something big. I had no explanation for why I had needle marks all up & down my arms, no recollection of how the tinfoil

pie plate was stuck to the back of my head or why my hair and eyebrows were singed off. Also, I was wearing clothes I'd never seen before. Women's clothes. I sniffed my armpits.

Odorless, as always. I tried to open the purse I was given, but thanks to my transformation into a mannequin, movement wasn't as easy as pie. Men's clothes were more comfortable

than women's clothes, as they were baggies and just felt right. I threw aside my purse, stepped out of Dillard's, and started walking along the dirty streets of New York City.

Oh, yeah, I'm Lena Dunham and I'm busting a fat move New York, look out. I am the new King Kong!

I'm the Coney Dog Queen, The Impertinant Imperatoress of IHOP, the Baroness of Baked Beans, the Saucy Shahbanu of Soul Food. The heftiest junkfood critic this side of the Hudson

and don't you forget it! With that, she sat down to an array of burgers, doughnuts, fries, fried chicken et cetera that she had laid out before her, notepad at the ready.

she write down all the names of her enemies on her Death Note, while she ate all the food. I'll show them I'll show them all she said, MAGAHAHAHA

". She threw the death note on the fire and as the paper burned she recited the words from killurenemies.com. The flames danced higher momentarily and then the note was gone.