"This right here is what you call a Powder

"This right here is what you call a Powder Keg." Said stupid Billy. God I couldn't stand him. Everytime we went out we got into trouble. He pointed his .357 at the jet fuel tank

. I remembered his last words. "Hey, guys watch this." Where he got a gun on the tarmac I will never know. The 747 went up in a fireball along with Billy. I dove behind the luggage

cart and tried to squeeze underneath as the jumbo jet returned to the taxiway in many more pieces than is usual. I hoped some official person was watching protocol being shattered

a hairy baboon. I would show my blue behind to everyone who tried to boss me around. If I was particularly annoyed, I'd shriek at a high pitch, bursting the eardrums of petty burea

-ucrats and practical businessgods, all full of sturm and drang, alike. The power was intoxicating! And my blue butt, so beautiful -- so infatuating. I began taking ass-selfies

And making paintings from these blue tinted photos. Blue Man Group was interested in using them as props onstage. I was stunned and accepted the offer. I needed money badly.

Thus began my Blue Period. It baffled my doctors all that summer. They pricked me, they prodded me, they even turned a blind eye when my blues tended to get flowery and tending to

the blue flower garden bored the doctors. They feigned blindness to avoid the weeding. But they could see, all right. They could see me fading away in a patch of blue, like a

silent blue wave drifting far from the shoreline. Finally a drunk nurse threw up on me. I was cure and in joy agree to marry the 600 lbs nurse. We have 2 kids and a dog name Hurk.