Denis the Dung Beetle rolled his ball of

Denis the Dung Beetle rolled his ball of muck away from the dung heap before the other dung beetles could snatch his prized lump. It was a wonderful life

he led, pondered he as he hummed sweet soca songs. "Dung-ba-dung-ba-dung". Denis switched tunes as he switched paths to gather more dung, "go dung, go dung, go dung".

Then, in a burst of energy, Denis broke into Oppan Dungham Style and everybody joined in! Dung was flying everywhere! "Ji dung bu to gal de ka ji ga bol ka..."

Denis's sister rolled her eyes as she watched the revelry. Dung was perfectly all right--it was the family profession, after all--but Korean dancing on Youtube? Unacceptable.

Denis's sister was such wet blanket. I wanted to tell Denis, let's ditch this lame tart, but Denis has this thing. He adores his sister. So like we had to take her to the diner wit

h us.But when I then glanced at Denis' sister across the table, I couldn't for all the world imagine a more honest soul, her gleaming tears and radiant smiles graved into my heart.

But Dennis was on the rebound, and in mean mood. He eyed my lovestruck moonfaced admiration of his sweet sister and was having none of it. "I'm organizing a tournament in Pyongyang

For basketball, NBA-Style, and Kim Jong Un will be there. Can I get you a ticket?" I accepted, knowing I may never return. It was better than living in Chicago, given the murders.

The cops were hot on my tail by now,and North Korea would be the last place they'd look for me.I took the ticket and headed off.Kim J-to-the-U welcomed me at the airport,alone."Hey

, LeBron, we expected someone tall & maybe black. You ARE LeBron James, yes? We DID get the right address?" I nodded vehemently. Can any of you dudes please send me a ticket back?