Melody. How she hated her name. Every morning:

Melody. How she hated her name. Every morning: "Are you in tune, litte one?" Melody. But it would be her destiny, she thought. She knew that from the time

before real memory. Music; it surrounds us all, but few "tune" in. Melody, it seemed had no choice. Life's syphony was threaded through her soul.

At least that was what Amy Winehouse said at group therapy. "I have no choice, I am an artist which means I am sensitive and so I must get totally fucked up." People nodded

Charlie Sheen piped in, "Yeah, I can relate. I have to fuck other people up". When Amy commented "That makes total sense, since you have no artistic talent Chuck",

you're a f***ing wizard doesn't give you any right to tell me how to rock!" Yelled the rockstar from mars at the fat man in the pointy hat. The wizard then pulled out his guitar &

stuffed it into his mouth. Although this came as a shock to me, I accepted it as normal wizarding practice. He bellowed at me with guitar scented breath and leaped down

right on top of my me. The impact forced me to the ground. Before I could fight back he began twisting my nipples and chanting some devilish spell. A strange purple mist shot from

my nipples, then my mouth and my bum. It tasted like acid mixed with grape soda. His demon spell continued and the gas billowed out faster and faster. We were in a purple haze when

A bird landed. Then another. Then another. Millions of birds came at once, screeching and pecking. It was then that I knew I was going insane. that's the last time I do acid.