"Candy is a whore's name," she said disgustedly.

"Candy is a whore's name," she said disgustedly. "Or maybe a stripper. Has a Candy ever won a Nobel prize or

been elected to the Supreme Court? That's almost as bad as being named after the governor of Alaska." He knew she was

in for a treat. So I told her to ditch the supreme court aspirations and come over to my

place for a nice rum with eggnog. She told me 'It ain't Christmas, honey,' in that wry tone. I smirked; 'you can still ring my bells, baby.' She laughed kindheartedly as

she peeled bills from a roll large enough to choke a hippo. Throwing several at my feet, she said, 'You may be redder than the devils dick, but I like you.'

to vomit at the sight of my own red hair and rash-red face. I took to dying my hair brown and wearing make-up around the house to conceal my deformity. If only I could

disappear entirely, but that might just appease the wrong people and somehow taint even my absence. I resolved to dress without color-to fade away and let my brilliance be a beacon

to fans of Alvin and The Chipmunks. Ever since they did that high-pitched version of theme song to the Greatest American Hero people clamor for them. But that will play right

over the heads of this generation who have no idea about the Greatest American Hero. Instead, the Chipettes are singing shrilly to Beyonce and it's my worst nightmare come true.