The swelling wouldn't stop. At this rate,

The swelling wouldn't stop. At this rate, his head would be twice its normal size in minutes. Doug felt his tounge, surprisingly normal considering he had eaten

an entire bee hive. He began to regret appearing on "Wetten das...". He'd exaggerated about having done it before. Eating honeycomb wasn't quite them same. His head continued swell

like a gummi bear in warm water. But he'd eaten the honey comb. The flood of bee poison exploded around his brain and soon he was tripping balls. He saw

ed down his treehouse, convinced it was haunted and then started smoking some moss from the oak that previously held the offending structure. This was bad. He knew something wasn't

right when he saw his mom coming his way along two policemen,the monkey and the smoke pipe...He wanted to run but whatever made him move his legs now,was as shut down as his brain.

Instead he made crude farting noises with his lips as the police followed after his mother when she passed her way along them. He was in deep doodoo, and not because of the monkey.

Tom looked over the script he was going to send Disney, obnoxious brat? check. Rude body functions? check. Monkeys? (Monkeys are funny.) check. Sure to be a hit with the small set.

So he packaged up the script and sent it off to Disney. A few days later, an agent from Disney Studios rang his doorbell and, when Tom opened the door, punched him squarely in the

t is happening? The mind found itself. Tom rose up full of grit and ire. Iron melted, smelt smelted. A demon octopi threw a flaccid sea drenched flag. This is not right.