I was wandering around in a state of limbo trying to communicate with my loved ones when I noticed that Bennet was hosting a Christmas Party. Can you even imagine? My body isn’t even cold and he’s throwing parties….Well, I was so incensed, I made a deal with the devil to get back into my body. (I’ll tell you that story another day.)
As soon as the Prince of Darkness had shoved me back into my body, I realized he had given me the shaft—and not the good kind. I was still bleeding profusely from my bullet wound. I looked around anxiously for that foreigner Matt was dating, Mohinnylicker. He is supposed to be some sort of doctor. I never got around to finding him though because I saw one of my many lovers…Ummm. I mean acquaintances. It was Elle, and she looked like she was playing Doctor with a five year old.
Well, I can’t even imagine how that happened. He’ll never be able to satisfy her. I mean, seriously, how could she ever be happy with beans when she has tasted bean dip? … [Crickets chirping]…Maybe that wasn’t a good analogy. Just forget I said that last part. With an adjustment to my pants, so my bum would be the center of attention and not my bullet wounds, I made my way across the room to reclaim Elle.
Unfortunately, before I could get there the man with horn-rimmed glasses stepped in front of me…No, not Bennet, the other guy—Bob. He stepped up to me and pounded me on the back, “Nice to see you son. Nice to see you. Did I ever thank you for saving me from 
Parkman’s Dad and the syringe toting Niki? Well, Thank you, son. Thank you.”
Parkman’s Dad and the syringe toting Niki? Well, Thank you, son. Thank you.”I was like, “No problem. Sorry I can’t talk but I have to get over there and rescue that sexy blond from that little boy before he gets chocolate all over her…blouse. I really can’t let him steal her away from me. Nobody plays the skin flute like she does.”
I could tell from the look on Bob’s face that he was unhappy about something, but I never got the chance to ask him about it because the hair challenged #$% turned me into a statue. The #@%^ didn’t even place me in front of a mirror so I could look at be perfectly chiseled features for the rest of eternity. However, a few minutes later, he did show up with my little Petey. There was a lot of blah, blah, blah, and then the little bugger grabbed a knife and ran toward my illegitimate progeny. The TWIT, if I weren’t a statue, I could have pointed out that his blood could probably do the trick as well, but like Petey is always saying…”Such is Peter.”