Like a newly minted mint, Winter Greene felt

Like a newly minted mint, Winter Greene felt refreshed as the peppermint veil lifted from his tortured soul. Junior noticed the difference, if only in the way his comatose eyes

Samuel, the inventor of Mores Code. She was channeling his spirit from beyond the grave. He was speaking in Pig Latin and when Junior deciphered the message it said, "

Erethay isay onay away ouyay ancay ecipherday isthay!" Fortunately for Junior, Pig Latin wasn't really much of a secret language anymore. But then the message degraded into obscure

squeeks and white noise. Junior tried to adjust the antenna that was firmly screwed into his skull. He just got a severe migraine from the effort. He turned his tuner-tooth to find

those creepy Russian numbers stations, which still go on in spite of the cold war being over. Junior scooted on his scooter as the antenna in his skull listening to the fat Russki

contemplating the world of observational comedy and wondering if anyone really knew about creepy Russian numbers stations or whether he should rework some of his material. He left

then, confused as ever about what to do about his life. Comedy? Or insurance sales? He tossed down another shot of Maker's Mark. OR...could he combine the two? The more he drank,

the more he felt his disco feet take over the dance floor. His funky boogie was grooving to the music with all the right moves. He'd shuffled up next to a pretty lady and she

began to dutty-wine all over him. All was going well... until her wig fell onto him from the intense gyration. The entire club gasped... & he awoke from his dream covered in sweat.