Miss. Willard was a kindly old woman who

Miss. Willard was a kindly old woman who lived at the end of the street. She passed out toothbrushes every Halloween instead of candy. She smiled a lot. I hated her, but not for

perverted Halloween candy practice, but for her husband Fred Willard. He was an evil bastard. I don't care about his shtick. I hate her for marrying him, and I really hate him

for marrying my highschool sweetheart. She was mine, mine, mine! I brooded on a cunning plan to ditch Fred Willard so she could be with me. I researched the 48 laws of power, the 7

Deadly Sins, the Pythagorean Theorem and Paula Deen recipes. Putting bits of them all together, my plan to ditch Fred Willard and get my highschool sweetheart back was foolproof.

I drew a pentagram on the floor and stood in the middle, surrounded by candles. Reciting the spell, dark energy began to pour forth from my fingers. Soon, my sweetheart had been

misspelt by the only other contestant and the spelling bee championship was mine. My lucky pentagram had helped me find the courage. I stood in front of the cheering crowd with my

trophee...trofee...trofey...UGH...T-R-O-P-H-E-Y. Yeah, that's it. I had not only won the spelling bee, but a scout from Harvard had come to check me out. He cornered me afterwards

and gave me the once over. I started to sweat. He handed me a crumpled up piece of paper that read, "The Python Programming Language" I looked up and the Harvard guy was gone, what

the hell? I headed for Ziggy's. He was the best code writer around. I wiped the sweat off my brow as Ziggy answered the door. Ziggy looked at the sweat-smeared crumpled paper and

studied it carefully. He always folded a story for inspiration when he encountered writer's block. The cool-headed clarity always helped him rationalize his thoughts.