"Supreme Being" read the black T-shirt stretched

"Supreme Being" read the black T-shirt stretched over his belly. He wore thick-rimmed black glasses and gesticulated wildly with a piece of overcooked steak on the end of his fork

- which seemed out of place given the barbaric nature of his overall appearance. With chunks of meat spewing from his lips, I am able to discern only a few

gutteral commands. "MUR BEF!" spewed forth. I hastly signaled chef with a clap of my hands. "But of course, Monsieur, would you care for an apéritif?" "YAH, MOR MEAT!"

Chef brought a whole leg of lamb. "MOR MEAT!" Now it was half a hog "MOR MEAT!" followed by a whole cow. "MOR MEAT!" "Monsieur!" the chef protested. "MOR MEAT!" "All that's left is

the bones, which were soon picked clean. With no meat left, he turned on the chef, and began eating him instead.

He was halfway through eating the chef when he realize that the chef had been made of dough. His gluten intolerance began to act up. His face got puffy and pimples sprung out from

where they'd been hibernating. He sprouted a second head & lost his gustation completely. Now he was eating cockroaches off the floor. The kitchen workers screamed in horror & fled

it's time to get some rad-away goodness, he thought. He found his pocket and just as he as reaching in to the pill box...

That looked like they had five legs. He ended up having afternoon tea. He was the proverbial guest who came to dinner and stayed. The police and collectors of debts never found him