It was Fustbusters best idea yet . He'd had

It was Fustbusters best idea yet . He'd had countless great ideas he couldn't remember. His subcranial prospector would change that. He inserted the jerryrigged electric toothbrush

into his dog's mouth and started scrubbing. Voila! The dog's smile looked even better than Gwyneth Paltrow. Fusbuster would be rich at last! But Albert was envious and he

was also fat. Albert was so fat he changed his name to Fat. Fat was so envious of Fusbuster's incoming wealth tornado that he sabotaged the entire dog smile cleaning operation by

letting the dogs eat doo doo. Fat was satisfied, now his friend Fusbuster would be broke. This would give Fat a chance to even the score on the girl they were both chasing. See,

Fusbuster had taken her out on Friday night and given her a ginormous hickey. So Fat naturally felt pressured to perform just as well on Saturday night. He slicked back his hair

and found a lake of pimples. No, more like a sea of pimples. Scratch that, an ocean of pimples. Like all pimples from the brow up. All real estate up there was occupied by pimples.

The houses were mostly pubescent students of Professor Ziti, instructional supervisor. His minions distributed clearasil tubes and the denizens of the scholarly City of Tee

Eighchh Cee returned to their scholarly ignorance but with clearer skin. Professor Ziti sent a two minions to check the nearby houses for signs that their deeds had been seen.

"I haven't seen the deed to my house since we paid it off over thirty years ago," said Mrs. Twinkie, her voice quavering with distrust. Professor Ziti's minions spat on her door