meet jack. jack is my bestes friend. my parents

blew up that llama? That is a two man job if I've ever heard one. And me and Jack (my bestest friend) got up to plenty of more hilarious mischief like shooting president Kennedy.

Of course, it wasn't long before the doctors told me that Jack wasn't real, and that Kennedy wasn't, in fact, the supreme leader of the bunny army. We killed them too, and away to

the moon we were sent. Yes it was extremely expensive and inneficent to send convicted criminals to the moon instead of to jail, but you have to admit:

they look so funny when they're dying horribly due to lack of air.

Those pathetic insects never see it coming. This was the third batch I'd trapped in my greasy hair, and they flitted around panicking and searching for an escape.

Watching lice scramble for cover makes me feel so superior. It's like I'm as big as the statute of liberty, and the lice are people and they're hurling themselves off my crown

. My delusions of grandeur knew no bounds. "I could crush you like cockroaches!" (I said to the cockroaches.) My apartment was my fiefdom, but how to tax the rats?

I invested in a few traps electronic sensors, tagged each rat with a chip & a headmounted video cams. Soon I was tracking their movements through the neighborhood. I was the Ratgod

and the Ratgod was I. I demanded an appropriate sacrifice on first Fridays lest I release a plague of fleas upon my subjects. I was a vengeful Ratgod. Was. Now I'm just Bill again.