My name is Joe. I have three nipples. Sometimes

My name is Joe. I have three nipples. Sometimes I'm ashamed when I have to go to the public pool. Sometimes I enjoy the attention. But what I like most of all is the

feeling I get when shaving. I shave my chest every wednesday, and that extra bump is a bit of a challenge. Anyway, it helps me be more aerodynamic when I

glide to work. It is hard to get the ribbed mylar wings on the elevator and take it to the twelfth floor. On occasion I have been nearly blindsided by a stray pigeon.

But the risk of sudden-avian-collision-death is worth the look on my office manager's face as I glide by outside the window. My ribbed mylar wings allow me to soar like a

bat. Not like those dickbag college-kiddie crackers with those 5-billion-dollar momonga suits. I worked hard on my bird-wing costume to flaunt the success of my labors at my boss.

Lydia Paradise was a free range Funky Chicken, if you know what I mean. I couldn't compete, having been cooped up all my life. My boss cock-a-doodle-dooed at her henuesque

figure. I squawked miserably & squeezed out an egg while the Cock in Chief & Lydia preened their feathers. I snapped. Squishing through the bars of the cage I ran for it, straight

into the claws of Felix, an obese feline. The last thing I saw was the look of shock on Felix's face at having actually caught something. At least my death was charitable.

Had my life been anything better, my death would have been misery. Thanks be to God!