The Note Wasn't Signed, But

They Have Enough Testosterone Between Them, If Testosterone Were Electricity They Could Light Up New York City For The Month Of August

I Got Out Of The Elevator And Confronted Mr. Wexler. “killing Is Wrong.” “we Kill Chickens,” Mr. Wexler Said. “we Kill Cows. We Kill Trees. So Big Deal, We Kill Some Drug Dealers.” It Was Hard To Argue With That Kind Of Logic Because I Like Cows And Chickens And Trees Much Better Than Drug Dealers.

I Paused For A Light At Hamilton And Twlfth And Noticed The Nissan Was Running Rough At Idle. Two Blocks Later It Backfired And Stalled. I Coaxed It Into The Center Of The City. Ffft, Ffft, Ffft, Kapow! Ffft, Ffft, Ffft, Kapow! A Trans Am Pulled Up Next To Me At A Light. The Trans Am Was Filled With High School Kids. One Of Them Stuck His Head Out Of The Passenger-side Window. "hey Lady," He Said. "sounds Like You Got A Fartmobile." I Flipped Him An Italian Goodwill Gesture And Pulled The Ball Cap Low On My Forehead. (three To Get Deadly)

On The Bright Side, I'm Sure This Isn't The Last Time You'll Ever Get Firebombed, So Maybe You'll Have Better Luck Next Time.

Has It Ever Occurred To You That You Might Be Delusional?' That's What The Psychiatrist Said, But I Think He's Wrong. There's An Evil Flying Pizza Out There, And It's Got Brenda's Name On It.