The hairy neon orange monster, that lived

The hairy neon orange monster, that lived in my closet as a kid has returned. He wasn't the same now, instead of reading me parts of "The American Who Taught the Japanese" He now

spends his days dressing as a suspender-wearing penguin who quotes Crocodile Dundee movie lines all day. He also enjoy enjoys the occasional scotch mixed with

tabasco sauce. Some say he was the most interesting man. I said he was a boorish penguin-imitating, Dundee-quoting, suspender-wearing amateur. He was copying my style.

At least he had good taste. I can't blame him for wanting to be like me. I can blame him for other things though.

Like the plastic surgeries he performs on me when I'm asleep. He's probably just a rhinoplasty away from looking identical to me. Well, I hope he likes the taste of defeat. My nose

is the best nose in all the world. Perfect. Not only is my nose straight, and not overly-flared. The bridge had been maximized so no sleep apnemia.

God had blessed me so. Unfortunately, my hands on the other hand were a different problem.

Burned and scarred from a causeless fire, my palms were noticeably striped with shiny pink lines of scar tissue.

I no longer had fingerprints, which meant...(I gasped at the revelation of possibilities)...