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The day before my hot dog stand exploded,

  • The day before my hot dog stand exploded, I had been thinking about selling the thing and getting into portable bagels. I could offer cream cheese, salmon, or just butter. But,
  • my dreams went up in a technicolor fireball. Hewbrew Nationals were flying everywhere. My second attempt was a Calamari-On-a-Stick booth at the State Fair. But disaster struck when
  • a Calamari-On-a-Fried-Stick booth opened next to mine. I was no match for Southern fair fryer ingenuity, so I had to resort to sabotage. I replaced one booth's bacon with low-fat
  • deep friend manure, hoping the "nutty" flavor would overpower the calamari. My next act of subterfuge was taking another booth's tentacles and replacing them with chicken legs.
  • But then the waiter caught me. She dumped a pitcher of Strawberry Margaritas into my lap and tried to affect a citizen's arrest. So I yelled, "Fire!" to create a diversion but
  • the waitress tackled me to the ground, which turned me on actually, as she conducted her citizen's arrest with a pair of fuzzy handcuffs. "My business card is in my back pocket,"
  • I said, winking subtly at the waitress. I figured it was a pretty smooth tactic for dropping my name and contact info without being tracked when I finally escaped from authorities.
  • Dating is pretty difficult when you're wanted in 43 states. How am I supposed to enter into a monogomous, committed relationship with the feds on my ass all the time? It's as if
  • I can't be happy AND be a psychopathic maniac on the loose, jeez, give me a break. I had fallen for this really sweet girl in Ohio, she wanted kids and a labrador, but the FBI
  • got to her first. Before I knew it, she'd married a private investigator and moved to Florida, and I was left with nothing but a jury summons.
Started
2011-07-01 13:44:34
Finished
2013-01-03 19:57:19

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