My girlfriend loves chocolate, so I thought

My girlfriend loves chocolate, so I thought what better present? I had myself delivered to her apartment in a large box with a sash, encased in a life-sized chocolate Santa Claus.

Unfortunately, I was sent to 3 blocks away. Since they were on holiday break, I was propped on the door step. I tried to break free of my chocolate Santa encasement. A dog sniffed.

And bit down hard on the Chocolate Santa! Ow, right on my hand. Damn that hurt. I know chocolate is bad for dogs, but this once it was ok. Except my hand was super bloody

hell is that a mangled bone? "Bad dog! I wanna donate my skeleton to the Smithsonian when I die." I'd doomed him to delinquency when I nicknamed him Bitey McPunctureWound, but this

would be my final irony. My skeleton did end up in the Smithsonian--as a mangled victim of a sabertooth hound. But though my narrative ends here, the story does not. My dog, Bitey,

He wore the fluorescent suit I had made for him. It made him able to fly! That meant Gregot could buy vodka at age 20, according to the booze police. But not for long...

The booze police soon found out about Gregot's flying shenanigans. They released wanted posters, and declared a manhunt for the vodka buying man in a fluorescent suit.

They did a terrible job and Gregot had a good laugh. He swapped the fluo suit and the helmet for a black, neo-Gothic cape, borrowed the hat his dad had left him and browsed the

web for several hours to get a sweet deal on a matching pair of green flip flops. Dad would be proud.