This one time, in band camp

This one time, in band camp

I stuck a flute up my

tail pipe of my 1965 Mustang. Now, when I revved up the engine, I got a piercing whistle that would awake the neighborhood.

I gunned it in front of my girlfriends house to impress her but the muffler whistle hit a tone that shattered all their windows. Her dad, local Prez of the NRA was not amused

because his prize "crystal" gun case shattered too. He grabbed his Purdey Side-by-Side Game Gun and shot my car. But my car

was a Transformer. I never knew. And it didn't like being shot. It turned into some kinda weird pudding robot & yelled at the mugger, then shot him in the nuts. "Don't shoot stuff!

Or I'll tell mommy!" yelled the little girl in pigtails from atop an adjacent building. I hadn't seen her at all - she must have been watching the entire time. With a sigh I began

To lace up my roller skates, and pull up my striped knee socks. I was looking good, hair was feathered, short-shorts fit just right. I skated onto the floor, slipped onto the orang

-utan, and then did a triple lutz and a somersault before flying face-first into the DJ booth. The judges held up their signs (I got a 9.3), and the orangutan pressed charges.