A glistening drop of dew hung onto the edge

A glistening drop of dew hung onto the edge of the fairy's just opened hollyhock flower and she stretched and picked her sharp little teeth. It looked like a good day to

prick the conscience of a mortal. Since moving to the Environmental unit, Tink found meaning again in her work. Oberon was very pleased with the results she obtained with Obama.

Yet Tink knew that Fou-F ou wasn't happy still. With all the Obama results, everyone thought that Oberon would just lay off. But Fou-Fou recogized that he was just trying to get in

to a total funk and start reading Sylvia Plath poems, smoking, carving pentagrams into my arm and generally annoying the crap over all who gazed in my direction. It was all

I could do to fit in with all the other chain-smoking nilhists. I decided then to be ultra-non-conformist. I wore an orange opera cloak, read the backs of cereal boxes and started

urinating sitting down, but it turned out I was just conforming with Dadaists. Dang, noncomformity was difficult. Then I learned it wasn't about not fitting in, but being yourself.

go over well with the Mrs. Not at all. She'd become accustomed to a certain standard of living and my new-found passion as a Performance Artist in Golden Gate Park had made a total

shambles of our finances and we had to downgrade our lifestyle quite a bit. Miming money in Cthulhu garb didn't pay the rent. But my wife stuck with me through thin and thinner,

and thinner and thinner until finally there was nothing left of her. I remained, stricken with grieve, but otherwise fine. I don't need much, just blue sky above and a full stomach