The receptionist was just what you would expect, tall,
blond, and perfect. Just the kind of girl you'd like to- no,
later, back to the story. She wasn't to keen about letting
me in but I persuaded her by just ignoring her and going
right on in.
"What's the meaning of this?" barked the doc.
"I'm here on the behalf of Ma Shlepberg," "I know what
you're up to but it won't work, you're through in this town
bucko so pack your bags!"
I snapped a few pictures as his head turned a bright
red. He drew a Big Gun from the top drawer of his desk.
This, I thought, would be a very good time to leave.
I floored my car out of the garage with three old,
black, Lincoln "biscanes" on my tail and a hail of bullets
raining down on all sides. BOOM, was the only sound I heard
as my 1965 Corvette Stingray lost a tire and careened off
the road and into a large ice cream truck, sending
tutti-fruti everywhere. I pulled my way out of the wreckage
and watched with ddoouubbllee vision as cars tore off down
the street in the opposite direction from which I came. Yes,
I realized, my patented Acme Hero Anti-Death Suit had saved
my life yet again. They were going to pay dearly for this,
"they ruined all that tutti-fruiti and broke my camera," I
thought, as I sunk into an black oblivion...
The moist touch of a towel awoke me from my 72 hour
sleep. My head felt as if an elephant with hiccups had sat
on it. Take it from me, it's not a nice feeling. As I forced
my eyes open to view my towel bearing savior, the words
"ooh, dat eesh niice!!!!" came to mind. She was a vision.
5'6". Brunette. Brown eyes and a bod to match it all. "Move
over Annete Funichello", I thought.
"I'm Bessie", she purred. "Dont try to get up", she said, as
I did just that. "you've got a terrible boo boo on your
head".
