Jimmy Crow was one with pretty much everyone.

Jimmy Crow was one with pretty much everyone. Unlike other ghostwriters, he dressed as his clients and took their wives to dinner. Today's assignment was for a Teen Zine journalist

who rocked the whole goth-chick-thing. Jim had long thought the undead scene was, well, dead, but apparently, as he flipped through the zine he realized that it was alive and quite

putrid. Yes, Jim Carrey had his finger on the pulse of society and zeitgeists. But he did not condescend to let the commoners know his musings, they probably wouldn't understand. H

E always had the number 23 on his shirt. It was his employee number while being a dog catcher. Dog #23 was the first and the last to bite him. Later, when retired, he adopted #6.

#6 had been the #23 of the 49ers in '34. Retired #23 adopted #6 when the 5-O gave him the 411 on the situation, which is what I just told you. He adopted her anyway. No dogs were i

n the pound, as she loathed keeping innoncense locked away. So she adopted every furry brilliance on the land and loved them infinetly.

Well, at least until People started to talk, which of course, they did. The police came by and demanded she give up all the animals. She barricaded the doors and demanded pizza.

“What kind?” the police probed. “Everything,” She answered. “A small everything.” The police confirmed. “No,” She screamed, “Extra-large, with extra cheese and extra pineapple!”

"By God" the police commissioner whispered, "it's a double homicide." Immediately, 7 squad cars under the guise of pizza delivery drivers raced to the location of the call. A woman

exited. “You’re late. I get free pizza!” “Ma’am, we’re here about 2 homicides.” She sneered. “Geez, Dominos sure has expanded! OK, the stiffs are inside.” The cops rushed past her.