I drove up to get a good look at the driver.

I drove up to get a good look at the driver. Pock-marked. Sullen. Who wouldn't be sullen, he was just punched in the pace.

(Man, I need to quit drinking so much... even my thoughts are slurring.) The bumper sticker read, "Karma's only a bitch if you are." Nice. No wonder his back bumper is caved

in nearly as much as his skull. The fist-shaped indent in his dome was the result of his many drunken, snarky remarks. His head like a hole was as black as his soul, but he'd rat

on any man once the police got involved, if it could get him a good plea bargain. His head throbbing, he picked up his phone and called

Freddy, his attorney. "Mama just killed a man. Put a gun against his head, pulled the trigger, now he's dead." That's right. He put the blame right on his own mother.

Fast Freddy tied his mother down and tipped the fuzz. On visiting day he told her to keep herself alive and fight from the inside. But she was a killer queen

She talked like a baroness and frequently changed her address. "Want to try sometime? I promise it'll blow your mind," she quipped. Freddy knew he had give her the slip, before

She started to belt out "Killer Queen" and make Freddy Mercury come back to life. Freddy Mercury was rapidly waking up and told her to wait until they could practise the song and

make sure they could hit all the high notes. "Sorry to have to say this," Freddy Mercury said, " But Girl, your voice could wake the dead!" They laughed so hard they died again and

went to purgatory. They held a great concert that even the living could hear, in their sleep. The girl had her voice register as a euthanasia tool & all (lived) happily ever after.