The crazy oldman lived the rest of his life

The crazy oldman lived the rest of his life being hated, completely broke, and... in love with a pigeon... This is hell... I am in hell. I am like an electric Jesus

I am completely insane. im bonkers. Ive gone of my rocker. I dont know which way is up anymore. I dont even remember i own name. I think im Tom. Yes im tom. Tome is me. Tom is I.

Having no idea how to be a Tom, I dashed in to pick up the Cliff's Notes version of the Complete Idiot's Guide to being a Tom. The first (and only) page said

“1.You’re Tom, not a Dick 2.You’re not Harry, either-shave regularly 3. A successful Tom is anonymous, unnoticed, & gets accidentally sat on in a bus.” The Cliffs Notes continued:

"4. Spot doesn't pee in the cat's saucer or hump Aunt Mabel's leg when she visits. Spot lets Dick put on the leash and goes for walks." He glanced up furtively from the Cliffs Note

and realizes the creative writing program will destroy his ambition and disallow him to express himself like

he did on the penitentary walls in Utah. He had some real poetry going until they released him. Maybe the jail house booze made of potato peelings was his muse. Outside, he lost it

and decided to punch of a convention of FoldingStory writers so he could get thrown back in jail and continue his limericks about what was living in the toilet and getting assraped

except by the time he returned all of the donkeys had been set free. He had got thrown in jail for nothing. Without his daily livestock fix, the limericks just wouldn't come