by Andy Cuck
The other day, I had just recieved word that I lost my job. I hopped in my SUV, and tore down the road, towards my home, which was located in the Russian part of Berkley Springs. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't Russian, nope, I was as European as they get. But still, I LUV'D trying to be Russian. So anyway, I tore down the street, smashed into another car, jumped out of my smoldering vechicle, and began the long 20 meter descent down my drive way. I had just lost my job I tell you, and I was feeling really really emotional. I started crying, both at the loss of my car, and my job. I fished the keys from my pocket, and I kicked open my door. I ran inside, crying screaming screeching with the fury of a thousand men strong. For on the floor, I saw a sorry sight. My pet dunkee, Peach Berry 1080 Roundabout, a revolver in his hoof, his hand, dead. I screamed, and grabbed the pillow from my pocket book. Yes, even men can have pocketbooks. I screamed and screamed, and eventually I shat upon the floor. Then, I reliezed I had ADD, and THEN I reliezed Melrose Place was on, so I decided to watch, and forgot all about my dead dunkee, my lost job, and my smashed car. JESUS BE WITH YOU!