I wasn't always an aardvark. I was actually born in Prague under the name of Franz Kafka. Not that Franz Kafka. The other one. But then, I made the mistake of eating two smoked meat sandwiches before tucking myself into bed.
I woke up the next
morning and I was an aardvark. Snout and all. And there was this irresistible craving
for ants. Ant pancakes. Ant lasagne. You name it, I ate it.
In a fit of pique, I changed my name to Al. I tried changing my name outside of the pique, but it didn't work.
I know what you’re thinking. “This guy is one wrench short of a toolbox.” But you’d be wrong, and I’m here to prove it.
In a fit of pique, I changed my name to Al. I tried changing my name outside of the pique, but it didn't work.
I know what you’re thinking. “This guy is one wrench short of a toolbox.” But you’d be wrong, and I’m here to prove it.
It
all started with the garbage…
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