SHirley had spent the past ten years petitioning

Shirley and Ernie both owned '72 Coupe de Villes. His was pure white with a burberry interior; a real panty-dropper. Hers was a classic pink and he thought it looked like

bubble-gum the original flavor. He wondered what the hell that flavor was because the bubble gum flavor was created when bubble gum was made, so what exactly was it? He turned to

his anarchist book of trade secrets and flipped through, "formula for coca cola, heinz ketchup, the colonels 7 spices, a here it is " - his finger stopped at "original bubblegum".

"Step 1. Colonize a local South American country. Step 2. Force the populance to grow Rubber trees. Step 3. Remove the sap." Well, gum was easy. He hopped onto the next steamer to

Columbia, only to find that the steamer actually went to DC and not the country. Still, there was gum to be had under every park bench, but the hobos and loiterers didn't like

a police officer such as myself nosing about their favorite hangouts. I continued my patrol when he finally appeared: the hobo with a shotgun. "DC POLICE!" I shouted, grabbing my

corrupt city council man to extort money from the DC city government under the guise of a "hobo with a shotgun reform program." Yeah, DC's local government is pretty corrupt.

Damn corrupt. But you have to beat them at their own game. That's what my ole' Papie used to say. So here's the plan. We meet at midnight beneath the

palmtree and we start to plan the whole thing. Early morning we'll break into the house, steal a pair of shoe, burn it, dance around, and the prophecy shall realize