Between the dumpsters, he connected his laptop,

Between the dumpsters, he connected his laptop, syphoning power from the local McDonald's. His dirty hands tapped furiously out his latest blog. "They don't know yet, but soon

I'm going to get a free Number One Combo!" Being an insidious hacker, especially one as well known as McFury sometimes had it's perks.

His fingers danced furiously over the mobile hacker-pad dangling from the front of his belt, and the cashier's monitor suddenly proclaimed he had paid in full for his order.

He laughed a bit under his breath and walked out to the parking lot with the cables, chips, and two Nestle Crunch bars. Today it was Radio Shack, but tomorrow he'd take on

Papa smurf with a cyborg gun that he'd turned into a plasma whip. Pap Smurf was nobody's fool, he had evil wood sprite magic and he called on a shadow lance to

shower everyone with rainbows. That Papa smurf was a meth addict was no secret. The gun in his hands, however, hinted his paranoid delusions had become something more. Pancakes

walk with their elbows, allied with his ability to speak while sneezing, were among the greatest gifts that any man could possess. And that

still didn't explain why my cat smelled of french fries. So crawling along on his elbows and covering up his relayed reports by sneezing as he spoke, he was able to reveal that

lapping up frying grease was one way to produce really slimy hairballs that smelled of french fries. We recycled them into the Chicken McNuggets & noone new the difference.