I'll admit my nerves are worn to nubs over the impending moped rally. Perhaps I'd been hitting the sauce a bit too hard. The Buttwipes, an infamous rival gang from Finland, will be in town. And I've got a mark on my head.
My father, Captain Napkin, disgraced their previous leader, Oye Papi Daddy-O. During what should have been a standard old fashioned hair auction, my father asked Daddy-O's best gal, Chesty Dom, for her hand in marriage. The Captain and Chesty were in bed before Daddy-O had a chance to shave his eyebrows.
"They're going to get you for what your daddy did, Kro-gar!" Chesty rose halfheartedly from her beanbag chair, the malnourished twigs she called legs barely able to support her distended belly. Inside that tank, a thing grew.
"Shut up, Chesty! Shut up!"
"I know what they're going to do with you, Kro-gar. Hee hee hee."
I knew Chesty knew what they knew they had to know. To do.
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