On a rest stop off Hwy 395 on the way to

On a rest stop off Hwy 395 on the way to the eastern Sierras I met the Woods poet. He was wearing an oversized green parka & taped up boots. He said, "Yo, I rap to woodland fauna

and goes sumpin' like dis: It's a green land, yo, it's a mean land, yo-a oh-a, nobuddy care no more, it's a wasteland, yo-a, oh-a..." Woody-J was his name and rapping for

days was his game. Woody-J could scat, freestyle, battlerap, and scoobiddysplat for longer than any other member of the Caucasian Invasion. That was his calling card.

Woody-J was from Polish and Icelandic decent. Investigators noted that he had a tattoo of a pole vaulter on his right bicep and a scar above his right knee. The calling card

wedged between his front teeth said "Jumbo" on one side and had a rodeo Clown shrugging on the other. Woody-J's corpse would tell it's secrets thought Det. Manatee as he lit anothe

r Russian cigar & contemplated the stiff before him. He examined Woody-J's lifeless hands. The pattern of callouses indicated he'd regularly swept a circular area - a rodeo circus!

The Russian cigar salesman was pleased to know the wooden boxes doubled as coffins for orphaned knickknacks. There was a flea market he rented a table to sell these boxes cheaply.

But having entered in mid scene he did not realize how cheaply. The boxes collapsed in his over strong grip and the evils were released to an unsuspecting city. He had literally un

-sheathed the sword of Damocles upon everyone in Pittsburgh. Newly freed demons howled with glee as they shot through the smoggy sky, and people had to duck into greasy spoons and