"Call Rich, tell him I need Botox real bad!",

"Call Rich, tell him I need Botox real bad!", Dame Polly said while getting a pedicure. "What is the phone number?", her pedicurist asked. Dame Polly gave her the number.

Dame Polly had given the pedicurist the number to a balloon animal artist named, "Bag Daddy." It was all part of Dame Polly's plan. The phone rang twice and

a squeeky voice answered which chittered like the lips were pressed together tightly. "High heels, open toes. Ofcourse Meet my at Caoutchouc Cul de Sac.No needles!" The Bag Daddy

tried to pull his thought together. "Hey! Is that Cul de Sac near Mescouilles or the one by Tagueule?" The squeeky voice was gone and Bag Daddy went on his way. Tagueule was closer

, so that's where he went. When he arrived in Taguelule, he found the Cul De Sac easily. "Ah-ha! OK, now all I have to do, according to my instructions, is wait for Godot."

Godot was late. It was nearly midnight before he arrived in a swanky pink suit and neon blue wing tips. He slapped me some skin,"what's up my brother?" Odd for a 12 year kid.

I eyed Godot with suspicion. Those pink pants he was wearing looked awfully familiar. And where does a 12 year old get neon blue wingtips? He noticed my stinkeye and reached for

the ennui which he smeared all over my animus. I became listless, barely animated, and I was confused by the directions on a box of toothpicks. Those pink pants really did look fam

ously delicious, I had to admit. Really quite smashing. But I digress. The sparkle dimming, my ennui returning, I fished in my aquarium bag for a cigarello. Nothing, of course. Cra

zy things mustve escaped again, annoying things. The habit was driving me broke, and I never even got the satisfaction of a good smoke before theyd all escape my bag and run off.