It's Oscars time. Somebody wake the Grouch.

Saturday, September 24, 2005

Souvenir Collectors

"Where did go the how you going to say certain person named Juan Carlos Vega?" This question going all over America like a busload of lesser known Baldwin brothers. Letters being written, e-mail being the sent, posters being glued to fences, 99 theses being nailed to doors, gerbils being launched out of tiny circus cannons, all with the express purpose of discover where to went Mr. Juan Carlos Vega, who disappear for over one month with no apparent fowarding address where to send his Lowrider magazine.

Well, here am I, Juan Carlos Vega himself, and at last the mystery can be revealing, however I reveal it with a certain degree of the how you going to say shame and humiliation. Juan Carlos Vega in the Palacio de Justicia, the prison. Fortunately, I have the good behavior so they let me have the occasional access to a little computer in the basement for fifteen minute per occasional time I get to use it. This is why I type the so furious style right now because already Reginald Hardensimple, the guard, can be heard to come down the steps, with the velvety pants creaking.

Why I went in the prison? Of course, you the nosey type person who have to know every scandalous detail, like the certain rodent what had to munch on its own faeces even though it getting the plague from faeces. Very well, I tell you. It is because of the certain vacation I take for the purpose of collect the souvenirs. Apparently, it not legal to collect the souvenir, even though I went with my official club, the Souvenir Collectors DDv-Style. We are a gathering of twelve persons from across the world and even to the uttermost parts of the Arkansas who take the annual trip to Souvenir Collect in the style we call DDv. Well, this year, our list of collection goals include the following 1) used hat of the DDv, 2) shoelace of the DDv, 3) one vial of breath from the DDv, 4) the DDv himself all trussed up like a Christmas ham and shipped via UPS to grandma's house for a dinner of the torta frita and frijoles with a lonely abuela. Well, we collect all these items, but come to discover that these collections, especially that last one, very not legal, especially when achieve with the paintball gun and length of rubber hose. NOW they tell me! Too late, Misters Lawman. I tell you what, Mr. DDv a big crybaby, I learn that much! Anyway, I guess that mean the annual Souvenir Collectors DDv-Style banquet is off. Too bad, because we had the meeting room at the Motel 6 already rented and the de-lousing and de-ratting of the carpet was well underway for in that room.

Oh, well, at least the prison food sort of the not bad style food. Tonight I had the gray stuff with a little of the brown harder stuff on the side and a nice plastic bottle of the red-flavored semi-sugar beverage to drink. Bubba Elbowstinks says tomorrow we probably will have the yellowish goop for lunch with the orange pile and a little more of the brown stuff. Yum!

Anyway, I better the stop now or the beating probably going to fofwkdsjlkjasf ejbgds....sdfaweesc0--

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