He was one of those Hodpodge stiffs that

He was one of those Hodpodge stiffs that says, "Nice!" after everything someone says. He also still wore those dorky shirts that have THC in place of KFC logos,

or "Roses are Red, Violets are Blue, I'm Schizophrenic and so am I". T-Shirts let him make an important statement without speaking. You could tell he was smart by his hip glasses

which belied the point that he did not have eyes on his hips. GENIUS!

But the eyes he did have showed him one thing, that his

days of leisure were actually causing his brain to atrophy. He'd tried to dismiss the way he slurred his words and occasionally missed a step, but his eyes never lied. He wondered

if he had a tumour. After much thought and self-loathing, he decided that yes, he did, and that the only way forward was to name the damed thing. George was born.

But he didn't like George, so he had George removed.

But he burned just as bright on my bonfire of screaming elves. I love the smell of nisse in the morning.

I turned away from the screams, a content smile on my face. Job well done, I thought.