I patted the freshly made dirt mound with

I patted the freshly made dirt mound with the back of my shovel. As returned the shovel to my trunk and climbed into my car I felt little remorse. After all, that bastard had

never given me any notice other than the smirks that he used to throw across the room when he felt it strategically necessary to remind me of his inner triumphs. As I drove

on in rage at his utter necessity to prove his dominance over me, I decided that he was an enemy of mine, and there's only one thing I do to my enemies:

sit them down for a frank talk about how their actions affect me and how I don't like the person I am when I give in to these feelings of animosity. He laughed, and The Change was

immediately apparent, because it glinted on the sidewalk. I inspected it on the ground, and found a couple of quarters and one bent penny. "Not worth the effort," I declared.

Then I took a double-take. The penny wasn't bent, it was melting and the quarters were starting to curl as well. I looked up and exclaimed, "Now make a giraffe burn!"

"I don't do animal cruelty," said Dali. "But I will paint more melted stuff." I considered requesting that he paint a melting tuna melt, for redundancy's sake, but I settled on

Magritte's Painting of a Photo of an Etching of a Mirrored Image of a Pipe which was not a pipe. It was too meta for most collectors tastes but I bought it with coupons.

And even though the "coupons" said they weren't legal tender, I knew different. I became the most-hated in the condominium. Trying to explain the "this is not a pipe" painting