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Now I've been called a crook, a killer, a

  • Now I've been called a crook, a killer, a thug, a no-good dealer of drugs. But I'm really just the one who put the satin on your panties. Most people don't know my real name
  • and have never seen my face. They generally call me "that guy with the back hair". I've always walked on the dark side. When she called, I had been
  • painting my bedroom wall, with literary metephors that when I read them they drove me up the wall with curiousity. I tried to encorporate the honorary ones in our conversation..
  • But then I was like hit was this Hippie inspiration. I said, "Outasight!" And "Faaaar out man!" I wanted to eat some pot brownies really badly so
  • I mixing up eggs, sugar, butter, melted chocolate and poured the mix into a pan and then layered the top alternately with choice leaves of chronic supernova and pride of amsterdam.
  • Unfortunately, the oven was a harsh judge of the meal, deeming it too 'epic' to create, which it deftly displayed by exploding into a mass of flames.
  • Someone screamed. The wall caught fire in a blaze of hideous 70's wallpaper and seven calendars featuring Dilbert. Ted, who had been hiding in a cabinet, reached for the freeze ray
  • before being tased by the shadow next door. Ominously a deep voice rumbling, chanting the words "Toto, Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore." I covered my ears with
  • my bear claws and proceeded to scrunch myself up into the fetal position. "My name's not Toto!" I yelled, "It's Benny the Bear!". My jaw suddenly
  • betrayed me as it bent too far down, leaving me in a state of mild discomfort. Frustrated, I gave up this endeavor and sought respite in collecting donations at a local church.
Started
2011-03-15 13:08:28
Finished
2011-04-21 07:48:24

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