The man sat in a tree, waiting for his wife

The man sat in a tree, waiting for his wife to call. How had he gotten himself into this predicament?

He knows the first thing she'll say: just because you're not a cat anymore doesn't mean you should be climbing trees.

So to prevent her frivolous nonsense from entering his consciousness he loaded a shotgun, rigged it so that when the front door opened it would blast her straight in the

face. Unfortunately, Avon called, and wouldn't be put off. The resulting explosion of tupperware

was impressive, who would think you could get such a big bang out of Mintos, Diet Cola, Horse shit and Cinnamon Red Hots. The Horse shit was just for flavor, The Red Hots added

I had plenty of time to contemplate my failure. Trapped as I was below 15 tons of concrete in the most hostile region on Earth, by people who thought I was a spy for a rival tribe,

I raged as hard as I could, figuring my only prayer of escape was to become a Super Saiyan. However, I only raged hard enough to become the Hulk. Hoping that was enough, I

at least maintained my dignity, apart from whatever injury wanting to be the former option left me with. The universe hated me my choice and sought to drop a hammer into my face

but changed its mind and let me get run over by a busload of people on their way to a Optimists convention, instead.