these pretzels are making me thirsty!

these pretzels are making me thirsty!

asked for three fingers and things got really ugly. "Nip and a needle" my pops used to say. Nothing like a single malt

liquor bottle when your dad talks about nipping and needling. "40 ounces to freedom" my mother used to say. She knew

Bradley Nowell (in the biblical sense), which is probably why my middle name is "Santeria" and she named our dog

Bart. She wanted, with irony, to name it "Bark," or maybe "Stay," in order to confuse the beast. Still she named me Brad

and not "Brat". I think she was trying to tell me something. I didn't disappoint her either. I would make her life a living hell some days. The other days, she drank to keep her

self hydrated while running on the treadmill. That's a good thing, according to the Internet, she says. She talks about things she learned from that Wikipedia site all the time.

...Running on for days and reinventing the definitions of boring and endless in my mind- like so many rogue editors trampling my will to live. I noticed my feet still worked so I

danced on over to the kitchen where I hopped on my exercise-bike-electricity-maker and whipped up a smoothie… Ah, life is

smooth sailing when you have a chef, chauffeur, shopper, trainer and pro giftwrapper on your personal bankroll. I laughed heartily in my kitchen. Damn, it was great being me.

Because I am the lizard king. I wave my scaled scepter and komodo dragons beckon. I step on their backs and pull the reigns and off we go. I command geckos and horned toads to

provide discounts on car insurance. One of the worst decisions I ever made was to agree to let my flatulent driver's ed instructor drive my mom's Pontiac Grand Am to

the gates of Hell. He blathered safe-driving tips at me the whole way, farting intermittently. When we finally pulled into Hell's parking lot & opened the doors, the release of gas

burst out like escaping ducks. It would have been alright, but when I slammed the door, the resulting spark ignited the gaseous cloud. Yep, Hell would never be the same again.

All seven circles were burning. Sinners were running for their lives. About sixty of them got a battering ram and broke the gate back into Purgatory. You wouldn't believe the crowd

that amalgamated in that shithole full of stagnant air and stagnant existances. My first grade teacher was there, but she had no voice. Thank god Lord Stephanus Colbertus freed us.

Now finally being free from the wretched office building, the group of cubicle workers set off in search of their savior. They were greeted by a head saying I Am America.

They asked the head where they could find their savior. The head said that they had to go to England and assassinate the Queen, then the head would tell them where to find their

savior. The townspeople talked it over, then decided to meet in three hours with weapons. Four hours later, they had killed the Queen of England. The head was no where around.