...presents for the first time to its digital fanbase an excerpt from the underground text 11 Herbs & Spices (currently out of stock).
Upon returning home to Brooklyn, once again out of the workforce, I notice bodies strewn about the AstroTurf terrace. I kick down the door and follow the shrapnel downstairs. It appears my landlady encroached on the territory of the Bath Ave. Ottomans who, in retaliation, slaughtered her protection, the Avenue O Woodsmen. Miss Harbinger is bound and gagged to a deckchair, her head to be momentarily made sovereign from her body by a well-groomed gentleman raising a cavalry sabre. With no regard for my personal safety, I yank the goldenrod tassel of his crimson flat-topped tarboosh so hard that the hat jolts from his head, leaving only his thinning hair to protect him from the elements. He catches pneumonia, a bronchial cough causes him to drop the sword onto his foot, fixing him in place. I rush to Miss Harbinger and remove the candy apple red bandana with paisley patterns from her mouth. Gasping for oxygen, she barks out a familiar and unceremonious: "Whar's my rent??"
Stay tuned for an important announcement concerning television's own Mr. California Teen.