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