The.bear.cat.ran.the.way.home.to.the.stadium.to.play.the.game.and.win.the.game.he.left.real.sad.from.home.but.knew.that.he.could.win.away.from.home

The.bear.cat.ran.the.way.home.to.the.stadium.to.play.the.game.and.win.the.game.he.left.real.sad.from.home.but.knew.that.he.could.win.away.from.home

While running, he tripped on his tail.

His life flashed before his eyes as he headed towards the ground. He said "oh no, I need Dora's backpack to help me up. Maybe it will have a pair of crutches in it." He hit hard

fire into a crescendo of burning white agony. I began to doubt my entire life's work. "Why hadn't I just stopped swiping, why?!" But, without his swiping, who would Swiper be?

These circular questions about swiping swept through my mind until there was nothing left to do but Swipe. I'd hit my bottom. I was now a Gutter Swipe.

As a gutter swipe i'd tumble outta bed and stumble to the kitchen pour myself a cup of ambition yawnin, stretchin, try to come to life jump in the shower and the Out on the str

eet in my Dolly Parton wig. No one would every suspect someone who looked like me to swipe gutters. I only swiped the orange ones because they were the most valuable.

These gutters contained air-breathing oysters containing lustrous purple pearls. I'd hide the pearls in my improbably large cleavage. I'd exchange the pearls for lapis lazuli tusks

which I'd then loan to my brothers who'd use the tusks to supplement their improbably miniscule bulges as they parade about town in search of mates. That's the plan at least. Deal?