Call me Ishmael.

"I'll do no such thing, young lady. Your name is Linda-Lee, and you'll scrub these floors before your father comes home or you'll go to bed without your supper."

That was no big deal, mom was a horrible cook. So I was banished to my room, but I was hungry, so I did what anyone would do, climbed out the window & went to BurgerThing. I had a

Whopper Mac with Seasoned Burly Fries. But I was eating fast. A ketchup container got lodged in my throat. Choking and gasping I ran up to a table of

contents in the first-aid book and desperately tried to look up the Heimlich maneuver. The information was under 3 different headings. My vision was blurring from lack of oxygen.

Hhnggh! Hhnnngh! HHNNNNGH...GROOLPH! The missile flew out of my throat, landing in the litterbox. I looked behind me to see who had saved my life. Oh. My. God. It was Janice

the Manace, Dennis's older cousin. Janice looked very masculine and we'd teased her relentlessly throughout childhood. And here she'd just heroically saved me. I threw myself

at her feet and begged for mercy. Janice simply stated that I was bound to repay my debt by assisting the Ant King. The Ant King would send for me

when it suited him; he was moody, and by most reckoning, downright arbitrary. In other parlance: insane. Janice sent me to a cheap motel to await the Ant King's beckon. Roaches

occupied most suites of this squishy motel where you check in & never leave. When the Ant King finally beckoned, I refused. The Roachmotel was having a TV party that night.