These stream beds. These tree trunks. These

These stream beds. These tree trunks. These mesa tops make my

spleen tingle. Truly, the wondrous nature of nature makes my organs do strange region-specific dances, which in turn stimulates my

medical debt. The debt grows like a blob, devouring and absorbing everything in its vicinity. I declared bankruptcy and that was the best thing that every happened to me because

now I could live off of the government & collect disability! Finally free of personal responsibility, I used my monthly checks to build a cool treehouse in Central Park. It was

a Frank Lloyd Wright design, set high in the treetops overlooking Manhattan. Sure I was on welfare, but I had the best parties with the best people at the best address. One night,

The Interior Beethoven sat at his desk and pondered the "Emperor Concerto" No. 5. Every note had to be perfect, like jigsaw puzzle pieces. His current jigsaw puzzle had 1000 pieces

gone up in flames if he actually made it to 1001 Folded Stories he would be legend or so he thought. He typed like a mad man. His fingers become numb and slid off his hands.

They went in search of Auntie Flo's Scottish Bloody finger little knowing how much that would cost them. He, on the other fingerless hand, still needed to reach his 1001th Folded

They were ready to give up, however they didn't. It was always worth it in the end. This could've been worse and they all new it at the time. They were at least a little greatfull