My name is Chesty McVesty. I subscribe to

My name is Chesty McVesty. I subscribe to the motto: "Keep on Truckin'" I use the half and half from Coffeeshops to fill my cereal bowl.

I'm gonna give up my driver's license, you got another thing comin'!" Old Chesty hiked up his pants a notch & spit-shined his "Old Truckers Never Die" belt buckle. Nurse Patty

Was flabbergasted and took out her axe. Old Chesty was surprised she could break his windshield and then vanish. She actually became a parrot, which was her previous life. Karmic

Justice had been served... in a way. But Old Chesty wasn't happy about it, and it wasn't just because of his windsheild, he still needed to find

the missing link. Old Chesty had been on the force for years and his gut was never wrong. The killer hadn't been caught. Gomez was just a pawn in a greater game.

Pawns were expendable. Old Chesty decided it was time that Gomez was reminded how expendable he really was. "I know you're not the killer this time Gomez. So, why do the time?"

"I guess I just like prison food, is all," replied Gomez, picking some unidentifiable matter from his rotting teeth. Old Chesty shrugged and pushed a suspicious-looking cake under

the bed. He had quite a collection under there because he figured there was a great demand for rotten prison food outside prisons and once he finished his sentence, he would sell

Ziploc bags of festering sludge that bore only a distant resemblance to the vegetables it once had been. And he would have gotten away with it, if it weren't for that meddling FDA!