Vague Insanty 028

It's not that I'm evil; I'd love to hug you all. I'm just a confused monkey-boy with an iron of fury.

I just think that I'm watching reruns of bad American sitcoms with a small potato named Jerrold sitting next to me on the couch, and he is all sly and picking up hot potato women, while I slurp on a slurpy and talk annoyingly about my trip to Italy.

I'm in the Olympics of not impressing women, and I think that somehow the potato knows it. He looks at me with those eyes, and laughs.

The potato is testing me. He knows I want to skin him alive, fry him in oil, and devour him like the cheap son of a bitch he is, but he knows that I can't because we've become good friends and it's not kosher to sprinkle salt and ketchup on him and feed him to my cat, Bastardtron.

And even Bastardtron knows, deep inside his feline heart, that I am doomed to atomic radiation. It's not the classy, mutant superhero causing radiation either. It's that really lame kinda' radiation that just kills you.