The Perils of Paulina Street

When we last left our hapless hero, he was tied to the railroad tracks. He was almost double-crossed into captivity by his evil ex-partner because of his naivete and lack of judgement in the human character.

It seems the “ratress” had emptied his bank account then called the cops….on him. It was then that our protagonist grabbed his two furry associates and took it on the lam…out west.

Fast forward one year and we find our Monte Christo licking his wounds and plotting his revenge.

Some days, when his mind takes over, his eyes roll back in his head and he drools himself into a trance-like stupor.

He was removed from Fry’s Supermarket recently for head butting a lettuce, stabbing a rutabaga and apparently speaking in tongues.

He seems to forget where he is.

Sometimes he groans himself awake, scaring the shit out of his little dog. Oftentimes at night, he runs miles into the desert so he won’t choke things. Oh, dear.

Recently, his evil past reached out to rub more salt in his never healing wounds. Seems she wants to be removed from the very bank account she used to trick him, then banish him. What?

She just realized that that is the very same Wells Fargo account that the IRS uses to dip its never quenching beak. Every month. Oh no! And they know she’s on it. Double Oh no!

And she’s liable. (Getting a touch of the vapors, here.)

So now, will our hero, knowing what he knows, stop funding the account and let the full might of the government descend on him. On them? Oh, if there’s a God in Heaven, by all means. (That means yes).

Our hero is familiar with incarceration. To be captive. To be locked away. Marginalized. He still misses the C-Rations he endured during the war. Anything has to better than Paulina street.

So tune in next time when we might be live at the Yuma Regional Correctional facility to join our hero to celebrate his pyrrhic victory.

Stay tuned.

Please note: I welcome comments that are offensive, illogical or off-topic from readers in all states of consciousness.

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