"So you like those fake plastic beach ball

"So you like those fake plastic beach ball type hooters?" "What do they call your boobs? Broken ballast tanks?" "We'll at least my manboobs are organically grown." "Puff daddy!"

I ran crying from gym class. Bullies!! All of them! I smushed my manboobs against my books & left. Just like that. I'm sick & tired of this abuse. It's time for drastic measures

like diet and exercise to deboob my male self. Since those proposals were too drastic, I needed a legit doctor's note to get out of gym class. I was too gutless to break my own leg

and so I invented a story. "Monolung" "What?" "I have monolung. There is not much I can do about it, but sure as hell know that gym isn't the way forward"

"No worries, Sir, the gym comes equipped with Lung in a Bag for all your oxygen requirements. We have all mod cons and our cafe serves Hungarian Lung Soup as a speciality," I squee

zed my cheeks together as hard as I could since I'd neglected to apply my anal deodorant this morning. "Well, I suppose that's acceptable" I said "but does this gym come with

out all these flappy teenagers and disgusting instruments?' He looked at me with a measured scowl, "Nope! That's the Pep Band. Package deal. You buy the gym, you buy the Pep

Band." I guessed that that was the cost of buying the gym. But if all I needed to do was shoo this group of hippies off the property then it would be well worth it.

But herding hippies proved to be more difficult then he initially thought. They moved so slowly but seemed to multiply when his back was turned, under cover of marijuana clouds and

"free love", the hippies were multiplying like cockroaches. Soon there'd be enough of them to match the size of the Red Army, armed not with Kalashnikovs, but with peace and love.