I pass four cinder-packed used-car lots;

I pass four cinder-packed used-car lots; a shabby concrete garage, the dead earth in front of it littered with rusting car parts and old tires

. This was a thriving metropolis until the Hippo Stampede of '01. You could still see bite marks in an abandoned Pontiac Aztec, where the rebellion had begun. A hippo was gipped on

It was cavernous and empty, like a JCPenneys or the contents of Justin Beiber's skull. Luckily, the orthopedic shoes allowed for

easy shuffling thru the vacant corridors of my soul. It hurts when people are nice. He spent a drunken night complimenting me & asking to hang out. Next day, he blocked me on IM.

Tortured souls we were...both of us...wracked with shame & consternation for that which we were powerless to control. A wooly worm crawled down my face. It was a sign! I texted him

Meet me in the garden underneath the lemon tree. Somehow we have to get this under control. Suddenly the worm took a u-turn and crawled around her nose and up

through her nostril. The worm got stuck and sort of hung there. She didn't seem to notice and I felt too awkward to say anything so we just parted ways. Hours later, we met and

she had another worm coming out of her ear. I put down my cloth napkin and pointed casually at her face. "You umm.. got something there." Her response. "BRRRAAINS!!"

A month later, when I stood trial for blowing my sister's head off with a shotgun, I was acquitted when a member of the jury had also turned out to be a zombie in training. Go me!