Desperate Cry for Help 017

Now children, last week you had a different speaker. A strange little man named Mister Happy. Who remembers Mister Happy?

Yes, Mister Happy, the Happy Clown from the land of balloon animals and laughs, with bicycle horns and big red noses.

I saw Mister Happy just the other day - shooting up heroin and using the money he got from his speaking engagement here to dull the pain and loneliness.

Mister Happy loves you all children. In fact Mister Happy loves all children.

Which is why I suggest you don't ever approach him if you see him again.

Still, enough about that bastard clown with social diseases who will soon be rotting in a jail cell..

I want to get back to the important part of this story. My part.

So, there I am. In my bright new green Mercedes.

It was an easy choice children. So a few orphans were left uncared for, my car had a built-in CD player.

That was pure opulence back then.

I knew where my life was going. It was time to get back, to crush the little guy, to feel the power and position flow through my veins like loving morphine - things were going to be alright...

But the truth is, things are never alright.

No matter what you do, who you suck up to, there is always someone waiting in the shadows. Waiting to drag you down....