"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

, 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.