People always say that you should "write

it took me days to get to his office because I wouldn't follow advice on how to get there. I flat refused to put the letter in envelop just because someone told me to. And when I

last did, I cut my tongue on the envelope, anyway. Sticky mint and blood. Not really a taste sensation; it was more of a texture violation. This explained my aversion to

the needle in the first place. Still haven't figured out how it got there. Or why the tax lawyers kept whistling like that. A distant memory kept almost coming to me. It was

a haystack. That's where the needle was. And that's what the tax guys were talking about. I could write off the haystack on my taxes. Thank goodness we invested in

that magnet company. We would use the latest super-charged magnets to find the needle. And when we find the needle the seamstress can resume work on the silver

blimp. Suddenly, her hand holding the needle and thread was grabbed and pulled violently upward. She looked up and said, "Fucking Magnets! How do they work?!" Sunglasses YEEAAHHHHH

Her glasses shot upward and clinked onto my supercon magnet coil device. I cackled evilly and we prepared for the heist of the century:

Bring the magnet over the bullion! Then I realized my mistake, gold is not magnetic. Pondering my situation, I received a crack across the jaw from her wooden stiletto.

Down below, I bullied and bopped her for the billions in bullions built like an o(bull)isk without blowing a bullet or bellowing the bullpen, no bull. But the splinters hurt.