It was the prince who killed the dogs, not

It was the prince who killed the dogs, not the servant. But the servant got blamed, of course!

In punishment for killing the dogs, the servant had to spend the week pegged to a clothes line above one of the city's smelliest streets. He thought, if only I could peg my nose

so I don't have to take in this unbearable stench. He was branded on the forehead for his crime. Children who saw him hanging there pointed and laughed.

The gibbet was on the docks of Port-au-Prince. As a pirate, this was the worst. The governor's daughter seripticiously handed him a note through the bars. "Be ready at nightfall."

It turned nightfall instantly, the pirate wasn't ready though! He didn't step to the side so the cannonball that went smashing through the wall wouldn't hit him. The governor won.

I suppose sometimes we walk right into our own demise. Like this story I just heard about a pirate and a governor who were fighting over the love of a snaggle-toothed, gimpy

walrus with a history of narcolepsy. In the end the walrus eloped with a seahorse and abandoned the pirate and governor altogether. The story taught me we are the architects of

our own dreams. I nolonger cared about my boring waking life. The next night I engineered a 'chance' encounter with the narcoleptic walrus & his now pregnant seahorse partner.

I would wake to piles of letters they had slid under the door. They begged for me to join the waking world. Eventually they accepted me as I am, and left food and water instead.