Half way to her house, I smelled trouble.

Half way to her house, I smelled trouble. More precisely, I smelled the dog shit on my shoe that I’d managed to keep off my face. There would be no hot Rainwater

when I got there. I prayed that that hobo in the alleyway would punch me in the nose and that it would stop working so I wouldn't have to live with this smell.

But when I got to the Hobo in the alley he poured out his booze, told me I smelled like something had crawled up inside of me and died. I tried to get rid of the smell, I even

downed a gallon of bleach, just to be rid of the stench. After a couple of seconds of deep thought, I remembered that bleach is intolerable to humans and started to panic.

I thought about making some kind of an ipecac, but I was too accustomed to the taste of tabasco sauce and dryer lint and cat hair that I merely belched some of the bleach out. I

Of course! Horse burgers, so beloved of the celebrity-free Belgians, could assuage my howling food lust. I mounted my scooter and left-legged it to the field behind the town hall

ullicinogenic mushroom grower's bong shop. Dick de Cock cracked two cans of Liquid Stupid and we grilled some horse burgers over a pile of burning cow dung. The aroma wafted

waaaay up into our hungry flaring nostrils, triggering two physiological responses: to eat & then to get to the bathroom as quickly as possible. Dick de Cock concoction soothed

our souls but caused enourmous distress to our bodies and that's the tale of why the FDA was created.The end.