I ran, sweat pouring out of all my pores

I ran, sweat pouring out of all my pores and above the sounds of my gasps for air I could hear the howling cries of the dogs. It occurred to me I had to make some effort to disguis

e my stuffed fishnet of pudgy quadriplegic cats I was rushing to the vet. "Moo, don't meow," I urged the cats, placing them in a Gateway box. The dogs were frozen by cowardice, so

I was able to stack them like milk crates. With my fat quadriplegic cats and frozen dogs loaded in the Uhaul truck, I was ready. I stopped for some pepperoni sticks at the

Quik Stop and stopped outside as I saw a trio of kids skate past the truck. I tensed as i wondered if they could smell my payload but then laughed at myself. It's been too short of

a time since I last rubbed one out, so no regrets. I smiled casually at the passing skateboarders, hoping they would not notice the evidence of my

vigorous manual friction, as their stinky blunts blocked out the smell of my masculine odor. I sat there for a long day, watching Tone Hawk-wannabes, sipping Mt. Dew until sunset.

By then I was both bored & totally amped with Mt. Dew-infused energy coursing through my veins. I would show these Tone Hawk wannabes how it's done. $park handed me a mike.

This was open mike night at the Kat Klub. I had poetry to read, due to be published soon. This was a sneak preview of my.book. I would return here to autograph copies for my fans.

"Morning. Sun. Love. Hate. Terror. Darkness. Night," I recited, slamming my fist onto the stage floor. (It was slam poetry after all). My fans applauded and cheered. Critics though