One day, Sonichu was zapping to the extreme,

One day, Sonichu was zapping to the extreme, when the Man in the Pickle Costume suddenly appeared and gave him a great, big hug.

The Man in the Pickle Costume hadn't visited Sonichu since childhood. He trembled, still feeling the bumpy skin and sour wet kiss on the cheek. Sonichu began to venture out again

into the front room where his parents watched TV. Sometimes they looked at him, sending him scurrying back into his room. Sonichu feared the return of The Man in the Pickle Costume

excellence was his forte. He spread lies about the school nurse. He hitchhiked to the back of Disneyland. He fiddle-farted away his Masters in Reflexology. He learned the harmonica

by sucking, not blowing. He jaywalked across Parliament Square. He called up his friends and pretended to sell them toothbrushes. He ate poptarts. He denied the existence of Life o

nly to impress some MOPs coming out of the parliament building, to find one soul he could pitch his favorite policy idea to, the one he had secretly nurtured since childhood:

to publicly execute the prime minister after the end of their term. Yet he cannot be blunt with this proposal. He has to blend in with the politicians. He has to become

One of their minions and thus he metamorphed into a dog, following them everywhere. His name was Winston. Winston was a English Bulldog with brown and white colour. Everyone loved

how he could be across the planet and it always seems like whatever he is saying to anybody anywhere in the world he is whispering it into your ears alone. That was Winston.