Achtung! I am nervuss! But MAD? NEIN! Maybe a bit on the silly side, but I em Fabrik Softenerr! He had a vulture eye...and it was always staring at me... mocking me... and filling me with a nameless ancient dread- aside from that he was a pretty cool guy. We met at a little cafe across from the Symphonie des Horror. I worked as a waiter, and he would come in and read poetry every Monday night. We struck up a converstion and soon we were doing the ol' Socrates and Plato "bend over, I'll drive routine" on his dining room table. The next thing I knew, we were living together. At first, I was attracted to his eye. But as the years went on, His eye went nutbags on me & made me want to ram a hot poker into the iris. The result being that his big grey blind vulture eye wanted me dead! I had poked it and now it looked deep into the dark recesses of my soul. 

It sought the device to drive me to madness. Madness. Madness. Echo. Echo. He would sit there at the dinner table chatting merrily about this new poem or that new line of verse; totally unaware that I was watching his evil dead vulture eye. And that it was watching me. Mocking me. Making faces at me. And worst of all...it teased me about my superfluous third nipple! As time dragged on a nameless fear clasp'd my spirit and welled up in my mind a dread I had not experienced since my seminary days at the University of Paris. This creeping terror had latched to me and oppressively rode me like one of the lecherous catamite bretheren that had plagued me as a student. AH... the glory days... long gone; I could tolerate the oppressive glare of his eye no longer. I knew the old man must die! And on top of all of that, I STILL had a quota of softener to sell! 

I had everything planned so carefully... to the last. One that fateful night I crept into his room. Oh, I was was so fiendishly clever. I moved so inperceptably slow... like a webcam being downloaded by a 9600 baud modem. S - L - O - W. It took me hours to cross the room to his bed and all the while I could feel that evil eye upon me. Mocking and jeering at me for the great care I had taken in my planning. Once, during my slow journey, he woke and sat up in his bed. I could see him as my eyes had become accustomed to the inky blackness of the room, but he could not he see me. Ha ha! When I had closed the distance between him and me... I slowly lift my arm and took aim at his evil eye. I was to put out his evil eye with the most advanced eye bursting device known to me. I practiced for weeks with it. Evil eye... meet The Red Rider Carbine Bolt Action Range Model BB Rifle (with a compass in the stock) ! Pop-Pop-Pop.... I shot his eye out! 

Blood and gore poured bountifully from his eye! Mom was right. These things will put your eye out! Then quickly, I stuffed his mouth with fabrik softener until he suffocated. He layed there dead and I just looked at him. What a horridly delicious sight! Blood and bits of fabrik softener were everywhere. It was at that point that the "Aryan-Blood" in me took over. it took me over like the winds during a hurricane. i was hurled off a very high 2-story building and came down on the concrete with a thud. "Wow," I thought. "That was a hard landing." I got up, brushed off my clothes and walked away, watching people stare at me, as if i were a walking corpse. 

When I got home, I immediately took off my uniform & threw it in the wash. As the machine agitated, I ran around my house naked reciting quotes from Mein Kamf and dreaming of someday frollicking through rolling green fields of grass like my evil american clone. Gad I just want to puke. Yes... these thoughts and more went through my mind as I dragged the corpse from the bedroom into the kitchen. First, I chopped him up with the lovely Henckle Twinstar Carving knife he had bought me for Valentine's Day. Then I took the big pieces and ran them through the Cuisinart he had bought me for Christmas. Lastly, I poured what was left and the bones; down the drain and let the Insinkerator do the rest. Bam! Bam! I sent a little essence down with him. I saved his skull for later use as a punch bowl (I learned how to this by watching Martha Stewart). What I didn't know was that a leaky drain pipe in the basement was dripping matter from the old man on the foundation of my house. While I sat in my Barney beanbag chair contemplating what I had just done, I could hear a gurgle coming from under the floorboards - could it be HIM? 

But it wasn't, cause the tell-tale heart was beating under my floor! All the time beating Beating BEATING PUMP... PUMP... PUMP like some horrid god forsaken woofer in a passing low riding Nissan mini truck with tinted windows and extra wide tires! Suddenly there came a tapping as of someone gently rapping at my chamber door. "Tis police I muttered as I opened the the chamber door. To my astonishment it was a large Gerbil... actually two gerbils. They were dressed in the height of police detective fashion. One of them stepped into the parlor and looked me over. "Sir, we've had complaints about a loud disembodied heart beating... you wanna keep it down? Yer disturbing the neighbors." "Uh, I don't know what you're talking about!" I said. But it was too late! The two (albino) Gerbils had already seen the skull! "You're coming with us!" they said. Without thinking, I grabbed a Llama and beated them to death. The llama, however, had other plans, and suddenly became very fond of my leg (which annoyed me no end because he was all bloody and icky with giant gerbil brains).

Sadly, the llama had to be put down... with a neutron bomb. Luckily my mysterious and erratic forcefield-type device thing saved me... and me only. Since everyone else was dead... everyone else IN THE WHOLE WORLD, no less... I was free to eat up all the cheese in the deli next door... which constipated me, so I slept for a hundred years or so like that Rip Van Winkle guy. And then, the acid wore off. I awoke to the beating, beating, beating of the heart - could it be real? Naaah, It was all just one bad dream. I awoke to find myself tucked betwix matching peach colored towels on top of an avacado Maytag dryer. I found I was Bobby Ewing in a trans-dimensional episode of Dallas. Immediately, I sold all my shares in the Southfork Waco Barbecue Company Inc, and had my big hair professionally lacquered down. Only later to find that I was required to do my man - imitates - dolphin act at Seaworld. Eschewing such banal eventualities I sought out a true spiritual meaning to life and laughed at the confluence of nothingness and being. Then I had a burger. 

Life was good. I was cute. My softener sales were up. My stuffing was intact. Parties night after night after night. Why was all of this torment happening to me now? Then, it hit me. A 40 pound ball with a smily face painted on it. As the ball came down on my groin, the thought of no more groin contests crossed my mind. Then I thought of peaches. HMMM.... Peaches. Suffice it to say, I now had a 40 pound ball, which would help me conquer the world, or at least some poor sap's apartment, or lab experiment, or... Me and my new pet 40 pound ball, LENORE, went to the cleaners. Do you realize this means LENORE went down on my groin, and crushed it, well not so much as crushed it. Whoo Hoo. Do you also realize I used incorrect grammar. 

We had fun selling fabric softener, then had ice cream. LENORE did not want her portion, so I ate it for her. I didn't like varnish ice cream, though, so we left early. Just then, I realized this had very little to do with Dallas or that tell-tail heart or the evil eye. Actually, you could argue about the evil eye part. Well, now I had my friend LENORE and my lamp (which I forgot to use to see the evil eye before... somebody probably forgot it, hint, hint). Then I lost LENORE, somewhere in the street. Oh, LENORE, the fair and radiant ball whom the angels named LENORE. Actually, I named her. Suddenly, there came a tapping. UFFF. My former roomate is trying to kill me. mmfreajlkd. LENOOORE!