the kid can slice through federal computer mainframes like butter, but freaks on a low-charge battery. I told you to call that 3-legged Chihuahua mutt. He runs through the whole engine, performs all repairs, and best of all works for a low-cost fee of Goats Milk and Sharpies. Watch out though, I caught the lil fucker trying to run bootleg liquor out the trunk one day....

> I caught the lil fucker trying to run bootleg liquor out the trunk one day....

Yeah man, this dude starts whispering to me:

"Hey boss, I got some good deals over here.  Come check it out."

I'm as big a sucker for a good deal as the next guy so I jog over and check out his wares, mostly cheap watches and bootleg medical supplies.  I glance uninterestingly over his mediocre supply and, as he senses my disinterest, he tells me that he has a secret stash that he only shows to his best customers.  I am a bit leery at this point since the only thing I ever bought from this guy was some bad oranges a few years ago.  Still, my interest is piqued so I climb inside his makeshift tent, holding my breath both in anticipation and the fact that it smelled like wet cow.  He pulls out a tattered black suitcase and puts it on the table which, in reality, is simply a homeless man assuming the position of furniture.  We take a seat on some adjoining homeless children and he opens up the suitcase.  What I saw inside I could hardly believe.

"What is it?" I asked.

"A bottle of the best alcohol you will ever have.  And I will sell it to you cheap since you're such a valued customer."

Now, this prized bottle of alcohol looked more like maple syrup that had been used to wash someone's car but, hey, I'm up for trying anything new.

"How much?"

"The lives of your wife and children."

"Really?"

"Hah, no man.  I don't want that crap.  Just $12."

Now, I am not the sharpest knife in the drawer but I can sense a bargain when I see one.

"I'll take it!" I exclaimed.

He took the festive bottle out of the suitcase and wrapped it in some dirty paper towels that he found on the floor.  I think the homeless-table-guy-thing was saving them for dinner.  I felt slight remorse but the lure of the bottle was more important than any simpleton's feelings.  After receiving my newly purchased "bottle o'goodness," I bolted out of the tent like a man on fire.  I ran the ten foot distance back to my front door in record time.  Unwrapping my alcohol as feverishly as a kid with advanced ADD on Christmas, I plopped myself down on the couch ready to enjoy my new treat.  I uncapped the bottle and inched it ever-closer to my parched lips.  I angled the bottle and awaited the first sip of what could possibly be the best experience of my life.  Just before the sumptuous nectar reached the promised land, I was jolted awake.

I was greeted with a grogginess and a headache, the likes of which I have rarely seen before save for that one time I went on an eight day peyote binge.  As my vision begins to clear, it all comes rushing back.  I thought that it would be a good idea to mix laundry soap and glass cleaner in a bubbly concoction I like to call "Ajax."  It would seem that I hallucinated the whole thing about the homeless furniture, the makeshift tent, and the shady Chihuahua trying to sell me bootleg moonshine.

is it just me, or could visuals of this be easily transfered to an episode of the Simpsons?

That depends on how well you can draw and voice the characters I guess.

well you would be Homer

Ok, so are you signing up to be Marge?