Dr. Amnesiac was a master of identity theft,

Dr. Amnesiac was a master of identity theft, but Det.Manatee was sure he'd visited the Tattoo parlor. "Abalone, checked this ink for fluorescence. The map might be hidden under his

gills." Det. Manatee waited for Abalone to do his thing, when he saw it. Far corner. On the wall. The tattoo, his father's tattoo. The memories flooded back like a bucket of cold

Spaghetti that needed more sauce.

It is true that his spaghetti were soggy, but he did not want to make a scene tonight. After all, it's his fault he didn't order a miso soup.

He sighed. Upon forking the spaghetti, he was disgusted at how it fell through the prongs like porridge and spattered on his face after hitting the gelatinous mass. "Just eat it,

insisted Wierd Al, but it was beyond him. Until overhearing Uncle Scrooge whisper: "My will names those who feast the most at my banquets" He then tucked in with a gusto, shoveling

the roast duck into his mouth greedily. Uncle Scrooge's cane rapped the table loudly. "That was my late wife, Turtiana McDuck!" he yelled. Weird Al had thought the casket was a

e of ill repute in which he found himself this morning. He threw a few coins at their laps and aprons and something about breakfast for the Homeland, took his sword and raced out

side and cut his own head off, but not on the first attempt. Oh, no, it took forty-one whacks to the neck with that dull and rusted sword blade. Lizzie Borden would've been proud