He took a tin-opener, cut open the tin and

He took a tin-opener, cut open the tin and pushed up the lid - only to be confronted with another tin within. "It's tinned tinned sweetcorn," crowed the shop keeper in triumph, "do

ya want to open it to be sure?" I sighed, took the tin, and cut it open. Sure enough, there was yet another can inside labeled 'sweetcorn'. "Aw, shucks, really? I was hoping for so

mething else. I opened this can & dug out yet another can. It had 'Fuck All' written on the label. A strange melancholy enveloped my senses as if of hemlock I had drunk and whimsic

al pan flute melodies trilled in my noggin' like a lost bird in a huge cave. All this canned "Fuck All" really didn't improve things. I reached for a beer and found only a warm

Spot to put my feet. The beer was good. Grocery shopping done, for a while! We had all the basics for a November night. Life was good, if you remembered money wasn't everything.

Have to find the right mask. What would it be? A handkerchief. No. That's been done to death. Hockey mask? Gory. This isn't a slasher movie. I need money. Wait. Halloween. Hmmm.

So I waited until Halloween and then pounced on a little plastic bunny mask that a child had left on the street. It had been run over several times, which I felt only added to its

roadkill realism. I took the knee length mangy pink sweater my Aunt Gerty once knit me & duct taped a cheerleader pon-pon on the rear, put it on & headed for the pub for trick-or-

treat night. I thought my bunny roadkill outfit would win, but not so. A guy wrapped in a plastic tube with his bald head sticking out won. He said he was a roll-on deodorant.