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.

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.