5th Grade

5th Grade

was a tough time to be in ninja-school. They didn't let you use the real throwing stars and the nunchucks were made out of styrofoam. What kind of harm can you do with styrofoam?

the local ninja community college where he planned on majoring in throwing stars with a minor in sushi. But, in truth he knew that his true passion rested in being the greatest

bum out of his parents' nightmares. They had only one son. They hovered over him like white on rice. School. Games. Girls. They borrowed and put all their money into him.

As soon as he turned 18, their hopes were dashed. He promptly knocked up his first girlfriend, ran off to West Virginia to live in a trailer park, & developed a taste for possum.

But you know what they say. Truth is often stranger than fiction. It was in this case for sure because within 5 years, he was WV's first billionaire. He did it by selling possum

stew to rich eccentrics wishing to isolate themselves from greedy relatives."Of course, that was just the beginning," he chuckled. "Someday I'll tell you the story of

how I really spent those eight years. By God, I slayed more tail in that oval office than a sous chef at Red Lobster. Anyhoo, how are things for you dear? Hello? Chelsea?"

Chelsea was face-down in her soup. Had she died of boredom? Never! To prevent drowning in her Manhatten Clam Chowder, he alofted her face with oyster crackers, & she was saved.