One hot summer night, while I was sucking

One hot summer night, while I was sucking down chili dogs outside the Tastee Freeze, I noticed that the dude sitting on the hood of the car next to mine looked exactly like Elvis.

turned and looked at me through his silver aviators. "Viva, Las Vegas baby," he said with a smile and faded in a glint of rhinestones. Chosen, I set my pilgrimage on route 66.

At a rest stop along the way, a strange man, wearing shades and hugging a pillow, came up to me and asked if this was the way to Amarillo. He was looking for someone name Marie.

I was stunned. Marie was my mother. My mother that no one knew. "How do you know Marie?" I asked the stranger clutching the pillow and wearing sunglasses.

"I met her at the candy store...she turned around and smiled at me...you get the picture?"

"Yes, I get the picture, very sweet...haha get it, sweet? Oh, i crack myself up."

Picasso was flabbergasted at how Cubism was so shortlived. He was now doing more abstract work and spend all night in the studio. At 3am, he said his last words to his minions.

"Drink to me, drink to my health, you know I can't drink anymore" and with that his cup ran over. Cages fell from their rests and shouted loudly when they met the ground. Old locks

of hair fell from his old head and left him as bald as a cue-ball. It was a good look for him, plus he saved so much on shampoo that he was able to afford new cages, but no birds.