I pushed open access panel to the heat vent.

I pushed open access panel to the heat vent. I know my landlord told me not to mess around, but we were freezing and something was jamming the tube. I found a string and pulled.

Up popped a hand out of the tube. A severed human hand. Just then I heard the landlord walking up. I put the hand in my pocket. The Landlord said, "

Manny, can you give me a hand? You can pocket a handsome rent reduction. It's not a handout. I need you to do some handy work." I felt the hand in my pocket grasp my hand and

shook it. Deal! But the hand in my pocket was underhanded and didn't lend a hand when it came time to hand over the hand lotion. They began slapping at each other. Mom

Told me folding stories are a healthy addiction. She was right!

I kept writing lines on digital paper, virtually folding them and sending them to the world in an attempt to be understood by society. I never knew if I ever succeeded but

passed between strangers, little notes of wisdom like "Brush your teeth twice a day" and stuff. Listen, my plan is foolproof. The world will be a better place for it, trust me.

But, alas, being a paranoid schizophrenic...I didn't trust anybody...so, I traded in my toothbrush for an AK47. I kept it clean. Even after I used it on the El Chapo.

My teeth are worth it, I repeated, from behind bars. Over my cold, dead, gums.