It was late afternoon in old Indochina. Madame

It was late afternoon in old Indochina. Madame Wong was lying on a low couch on a jjunk floating down the Mekong. She lit a small opium pipe to keep the flies away from her face.

Why, you may ask? It was that song Doris Day used to sing, now Madame Wong's philosophy: "Que sera, sera" she sang as she downed another Bloody Mary. "Whatever will be, will be..."

Madame Wong belched and made a face at the bartender. Don Draper smiled, lit a smoke and said, "People have had enough Doris Day, maybe it's time for Doris Night."

He drew deeply and held it for effect, then exhaled. His eyes widened as if to give birth. Don Draper had mistakenly torched a live Blunt. Mme. Wong cackled and became Mme. Wight!

Mme. Wight said, "What do you think you are doing? You are going to burn the house down." She grabbed Don Draper and her Chinese Hairless dog, Tung Le, bit him. Tung Le was smarter

that the average bear in spades, but that didn't mean he let that stop him in any way. He wasn't afraid to bite the hand that might feed him. He'd just shown that. His street cred

was through the roof after he escaped conviction from his latest assault charges. The defence argued that, since he's a bear, he can't be held accountable for his actions.

After this, the bear liked to wander around town doing whatever the heck he pleased. Stealing pies. Mauling tourists. "I'm a bear," he reminded anyone who dared object.

Yeah, whatever.