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Final 3 Squirrels Found Posing as Trump’s Hair

Final 3 Squirrels Found Posing as Trump’s Hair

You haven’t heard from us for a while because we’ve been tracking the final 3 squirrels who want to take over the world. Well, the search is over. All 42 are accounted for.

You know how some parasites control their host’s minds? Well, apparently that’s what these three squirrels have been doing with Donald Trump for a very very long time. Donald Trump does not have hair; he has squirrels…sociopath squirrels who want nothing more than to make life for humans as the dominant species to come to an end.

“We really couldn’t believe we missed it for so long” head JAOFF reporter Zaz McNichols said. “We were trying all sorts of things…George even tried to go undercover…wore a squirrel costume for 2 years and even created propaganda that basically echoed the 42’s. I guess his 200 lb frame didn’t really help. We even went to the Kakadu Wetlands with a guy named Mike Penceuldik and a case of Fosters looking for the final damn three. Mike kept going on and on about gay this and gay that causing the end of the world. It was super weird. Luckily a gay pigeon shit into his eyes and he had to go back. We kind of hoped that he would get malaria or something. The guy was a total a@@hole. Then there were the 4 months spent in Moscow. My lawyer said I couldn’t talk about the first 3 months, but in the 4rth we really started to pay attention to police officers outside of our cells. They kept blabbing about Putin and Trump.

But this is where the idea came to Jim Jonnekin’s mind. He scribbled out some cryptic message in blood that I couldn’t read, so I just asked him what it said as we were staying in the same cell.

‘I think I know where the final 3 are, and you’re not going to believe it.’

“At first I just thought that he had another bad bowl of Borscht or whatever it was and his mind was finally crumbling like a 3-year old cookie. Then we started analyzing. We even got one of Hilary’s staff aides to grab a piece of hair…well, fur, from his head while Trump was talking about how awesome his words were to one of his aids while holding onto her crotch and asking if his hands felt too small. Once we got the sample, we knew. Oh yeah, we knew.”

Apparently, the “final damn three” as our top investigators are calling them, developed a technique known as the Gowlden Shaur (pronounced ˈSHou(ə)r) to contort and weave their bodies together indefinitely. Once we knew it was them our investigative team back home got to work. The 42 squirrels are naturally telepathic, but they knew they needed something very robust to accomplish what they wanted. So they developed the Eyeminas Whole method, where they were able to use the naturally racist, misogynistic, paranoid, narcissistic, nihilistic, self-centered thoughts of the host and amplify them, so the host had no choice but to blurt them out, even in presidential debates. There was one caveat, though; the host’s brain had to be extremely underdeveloped, to the point where self-awareness was barely evident. In evolutionary terms, the Homo Habilis would probably have greater intellectual prowess than their ideal host.

Well, they found their perfect host. And today they are in control of the man who is going to be inaugurated as the 45th president of the Unites States of America.

The following image was created by a professional artist to express distaste for Donald Trump. There have been others who have made references to Trump’s hair being like squirrel hair or worse. To us, this showed that many people around the world were intuiting what we’ve only recently discovered definitively.


The squirrels grew up in a small village somewhere in the vicinity of a treehouse next to the Westboro Baptist Church and have changed their names to Ted Nuggets, Rushing Limbahn, and Marzin Shkrelin.

“We’ve spent years searching for these little d!cks, and we found em'” stated our chief correspondent Erica Sports. “The question is,” she continued, “what the hell do we do now?

The 42 Overview


Herein you will find the supra-confidential biographical information regarding the 42 Squirrels who plan to take over the world via their master conspiracy, a conspiracy like no other, etc. The information has been gathered and sorted by actors that one sees in job training videos and Nova episodes, mainly due to budgetary reasons.  As stated in the reputable wiki Uncyclopedia, only “Tommy Lee Jones, the Swedish bobsleigh team, and Mongolian president Tsakhiagiin Elbegdorj” have had access to this information (see

Things have changed.  We need the world to know exactly what is going on, so we’re providing this information with great risk to our lives, finances, and immediate access to fast food restaurants.

Please feel free to scroll down the list of profiles/biographies in order to educate yourself.  And remember:  Please post any sightings of the 42, or any suspicious fascist like  behavior any squirrel (or animal that reminds you of a squirrel, yet maybe much larger) here.  It is for the benefit of the human race….please remember that as you go about your daily lives.

#4 – Forda (Glocknein) Denturo Smezzlewick (aka Goose Muzzle)

#4 – Forda (Glocknein) Denturo Smezzlewick (aka Goose Muzzle)

Forda has one of the richest histories among the 42.  She was found in the capital city of Ankara, Turkey, by a couple of recently emigrated Guatemalan tourists.  The tourists had moved to the south, Alabama specifically, after being hired by an aeronautics organization for their contributions to SACSA (Southern Aeronautics Community Specifically Alabama). Their names were Frito Banchezno and Rita Banchezno Valenzuela Guadalupe Virginia.

They had been in the south for a couple years, so had developed a very rich southern/Guatemalan Spanish accent.  They mainly wore cowboy hats, Wranglers, and colorful shirts that had proclamations like “USA All the Way While Retaining Guatemalan Cultural Heritage!” They had for the most part stopped making traditional dishes in favor of a more proletariat culinary lifestyle of fast food.  They initially made the mistake of thinking that because the food was coming from an established restaurant found in many cities around the world, and had neon lights at night, that the food was healthy. They thus became quite large, and were quite large when they stumbled upon Forda that fateful day in Ankara.

It must be noted here that the Bancheznos could not conceive…due to a dare that Frito had fallen prey to when he was a much younger 24.

That morning the Bencheznos had considered eating at the revolving restaurant named “Sevilla,” though decided they may end up projectile puking like the time they tried to eat an mole/elote mix on a spinning ride named “Twister” at a local fair. Instead they opted for the cafe named UFO.  They were both avid UFO hunters ‘by nature,’ as they would say, so hoped that they could pick up some memorabilia, or maybe even see a human/alien hybrid.

After eating they ventured on to the cupola of the Atakule Tower, to take in the view.  They were surprised to find that they were the only ones present at the time, which lasted for a total of around 47 seconds (according to our timekeeping sources), at which time a robed and hooded figure came into the cupola behind them (they hadn’t noticed as they were taking in the view and both had mild carb comas). This robed figure left something on the floor near the Bancheznos, then swiftly made his way out.  Frito Banchezno noticed something out of the corner of his eye, and he was fairly certain that he read something quite small from the telescopic/reading glasses hybrid awarded to him by SACSA. At the time he thought he had read what appeared to be a name:

 Carbos Salem

He soon forgot about what he had thought he read, as he had noticed that the man had left behind what appeared to be a baby carriage. He motioned for Rita to come take a look.  Sure enough, there lay a person not more than a month in this world, happily gurgling and wondering what the blobs called Rita and Frito were.

“Frito, what in sam hell, we need to tall someone about this, or what the…”

She had paused for a moment, as Frito had found a note that appeared to be addressed to them.  It read:

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Banchezno,

I am a philanthropist, and I am incredibly wealthy.  I know that you two have been trying to conceive, and have been too proud to actually try and adopt.  Yes, I have been spying on you; I hope that’s alright. I figured you were strong patriots of the patriot act so wouldn’t mind.

They both shrugged their shoulders, nodded their heads, and muttered “‘merica.”

Here I present to you a perfectly healthy baby for you to raise.  I’ve hacked into all the necessary databases, created a birth certificate, etc. to make it appear that for all intents and purposes you, Mrs. Banchezno, gave birth.  Lucky for you, you didn’t have to go through the actual process.  I’ve left the name field blank, as I felt it appropriate that you fill that in to your liking.  I myself was thinking that the name should be somewhat stately, like Quizna or Quartz or Quiznosquandry. At any rate, here you go. My non-descript servant Wilnren (not his real name, I wouldn’t even try Googling him) will show you out.  I’ve ensured that you two would be the only ones to be in the cupola while this happened.


Please don’t ask who I am or how this happened.  It will only cause ‘problems’.

“Good day Sir, Madam” said a nondescript man who was perhaps just a foot from them.

“Hey, you that Wilbren feller?” queried Frito.

“Indeed sir.  I have a car waiting for you outside.  Shall we go now?”

It was presented more as a command, rather than a question. Being the obedient types, they followed.

“Ahem,” muttered Wilnren.

“What is it Wilbren?”

“Would the sir or misses care to bring the child along?”

“Oh shit son! Rita, we’re already terrible parents!  I feel like roasting myself over an open fire like a Venezuelan Chestnut.”

“Oh hush up now Frito, we’ve only been parents now for about 3 minutes.  Cut yourself some slack or you’ll have yourself another gol’ dern’ heart attack.”

“As they walked out they deliberated for a bit on names, until suddenly Frito came up with the perfect name.  He believed it was stately, and very patriotic. The name was “Forda.”

Growing up in the south was interesting for Forda. She learned Spanish, but also had developed a drawl that was unique to her family. When she was old enough, the Bancheznos decided that it was time to let her know the truth.

She was understandably a bit furious at first, but calmed down after a bit and told her parents that they were her real parents, and she didn’t need anyone else.  The Bancheznos were very relieved, though there was a part of Forda that couldn’t completely forget about what she had learned. She, perhaps unwittingly, decided to go into forensics, specializing in Forensic DNA Analysis. She later believed that it was her sub-conscious mind, which she believed to be much more curious than her conscious mind, that was the catalyst for the forensics degree.

Then her sub-conscious curiosity spilled over into her conscious mind like a drink being filled by someone who had just drank a substantial amount of whiskey. She became obsessed with finding out who her real parents were.

When she graduated from college, she decided that she would go to Morocco.  This was against her parent’s wishes, but they ultimately respected her decision.  She fell in love with and eventually married a Moroccon millionaire by the name of Tang Buckleback. They even had a few kids, and had her parents move to Morocco to live in Tang’s mansion, which was on the outskirts of Tangiers.

She became unhappy…..depressed. She knew that she had to find out, even if her biological parents were dead. One night she went to a bar.  Not being a heavy drinker, she started feeling very inebriated after a few shots of “The Tangier Tango,” which was a mixture of whiskey and orange flavored vodka, with a splash of Everclear.

She found herself alone with one other bar patron.  The other bar patron introduced herself as Sequoia Snushka. Sequoia had been listening to Forda ramble on about mundane things at first.  She was however such a good listener, that Forda continued on with the intimate details about her life, specifically the fact that she didn’t know who her biological parents were.

The whole time that Forda was talking, Sequoia was “MIMING,” which stands for Mind Instant Messaging with 42 headquarters. Sequoia was incredibly surprised at what she had learned. Forda, it turned out, was given to the Bancheznos that fateful day in Turkey by one of the original founders of the 42 organization, long before the foundation even existed.  Before being part of the 42 startup, he was a billionaire, one of the richest men in the world.  He owned Tell-Mallan, as well as a few other telecommunications companies in Guatemala.  He was known as an incredibly wealthy philanthropist, and went by the name of Carbos Salem.

After getting direction from 42 headquarters, she proceeded accordingly.  She told Forda that she could help her locate her biological parents, but that in order to do so, she would have to join a clandestine nefarious organization plotting to rule the world, and never see her family again.

It was morning at that time, and Forda was fairly sober. She had been “good” all her life, and felt that a change was needed, and so acquiesced. It was one of the most abrupt changes in personality ever witnessed at a Moroccan bar, so far as anyone could tell.

And so number 4 was brought into the fold, and was renamed Forda (Glocknein) Denturo Smezzlewick (aka Goose Muzzle).


#5 – Gareth Cunningham Charbroilous III (aka Stopsign Chloroform)

#5 – Gareth Cunningham Charbroilous III (aka Stopsign Chloroform)

Gareth was born into wealth in the city of Palma, Spain.  His parents, Martha Sanchez Coleslavia and Ferdinand Aragon the 157th celebrated the event by purchasing Bellver Castle and redecorating it with IKEA furniture to show they could still mingle with the bourgeois.

At the very same time that Gareth was born, there was another that came into this world anew.  Born into academic gentry, Sir. Grehzgorius Mazmaxico Plaintiff Cupola was welcomed by the same Bellver Castle party attendees. His parents, Talisman Gumjo and Riley Worthol were very close friends.

The two grew up together in the castle.  Our sources report that Talisman, Riley, Martha, and Ferdinand had somewhat of a “not at all Puritan” view of marriage, which resulted in both Gareth and Grehgorius sometimes forgetting whose parents were whose.

Gareth was usually angry, and hated fish.

It was unusual that he hated fish so much, growing up on the island of Majorca, but his parents could do nothing for it.  Gareth adored pizza, cheeseburgers, and double fried Chip Ringers. Chip Ringers are a specialty item on the island, and are made out of the dense accumulation of french fry grease from the local burger joints.  They are usually cleaned out about once a year, so Chip Ringers were somewhat of a delicacy, and costed a small fortune.

Grehzgorius loved fish, and often waved raw stonebash under Gareth’s nose in order to induce violent nausea. Gareth would turn bright red and storm out of the room nearly vomiting, but still muttering the most colorful curses he could think of at Grehzgorius.

Despite their differences, and Gareth’s intense outbursts of anger and frustration brought on by  provocation, they were virtually inseparable.

  • They bought matching sailboats.
  • They dated girls that had similar names and tastes in postmodern art.
  • They both took their first trip to Las Vegas, USA together
  • They both got treated with the same antibiotics due to an infection both received while in Las Vegas
  • They started a band called “The Thuddy Thudwhackers.”

As they grew older, Gareth’s distaste for fish grew as well. He would only swim in the castle pool, which contained no fish.  In fact, he hired a specialty company to put bits of floating pizza in the pool to make it seem like a more ‘organic’ experience. Gareth and Grehzgorius were beginning to spend less and less time together, as while Gareth mainly stayed in the castle, Grehzgorius was practicing the art of “Ballet for Out of Work Actors” and eating massive amounts of broiled fish.

Grehzgorius confronted him in front of his butler.  The butler’s name was Vacuumis Elso:

“Why are you so angry Gareth?”

“I’m not angry. Shut up.”

“Why are you so angry all the time?”

“You’re such an idiot.”

“Want some fish?  I have some in my pockets.  They’ve been there for 4 days…..4 days Gareth.  Plus, why are you so angry?”

“You’re such a jerk.  Ugh! That smells disgusting…dude, put that shit away.”

“Gareth….what happened to you?” asked Grehzgorius asked, his voice changing from provocateur to concerned friend. “Were you in love with a fish and rejected or something?”

“No! I just hate fish.  They. Are. Dis. Gus. Tin. G….plus, there was that one time when a swordfish ate my koala, Mr. Puff Buckins.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that.  Is that why you’re so angry all the time?”

It was at this point that Gareth “lost his marbles.”  He began shouting incoherently, and rambling on about seaweed nightmares.  He wanted to move to a landlocked place like Kansas, where people ate meat, and at the worst that popcorn shrimp you get at Walmart. He threw everything at Grehzgorius, including his Chip Ringers, and told him to never, ever talk to him again.

Grehzgorius shrugged his shoulders, said “hmmm,” and walked out.

Gareth seethed for days after this.  He was a wretched mess until he came up with a solution. He would get rid of all the fish in the world….then, and only then, could he be happy. He knew this deep in his heart, and it gave him nefarious peace. He just didn’t know how to go about doing it, until he met Jon Bovi.

Jon Bovi was visiting the castle, as he was friends with Gareth’s parents.  Whenever he came over, French military music was played very loudly over the speaker system throughout the castle, which annoyed Gareth to no end. When the music started up, he was emboldened, and flew into the main chamber in a rage, demanding that the music be shut off.

To Jon Bovi, Gareth was a sight to behold:  Wild unwashed greasy hair flailing, a silk bathrobe drenched in what appeared to be grease from various melted cheeses and Chip Ringers, and a shirt that said simply: All Fish Must Go.

The music was turned off, and Jon Bovi politely extended his apologies for the disruption, and gave Gareth his card. On the back of the card, Jon had written:

“I can help you with your fish problem.”

The next day Gareth was inducted into the 42, and has been ever since.



#6 – Sequoia Snushka (aka Pillough Wars SLAGGLE)

#6 – Sequoia Snushka (aka Pillough Wars SLAGGLE)

Sequoia Snushka was born by a rotary phone that was not connected to anything in a yacht.  The yacht was somewhere in the vicinity of the Indian Ocean, and was owned by then trillionaire  Marco Flapolo (often called ‘The Herb Crusted) Snushka. The child was not the offspring of Marco Flapolo Snushka, despite both child and yacht owner having the same surname.

Marco was going on his annual “cruise to who knows the f@#$ where” junket, when he found a mother apparently ready to give birth on – surprisingly enough – a pontoon boat. Having traversed the Indian Ocean before he knew to expect anything, and because he was feeling slightly guilty over the previous nights series of events (the end result of the now known condition called ‘Ridiculously Wealthy Induced Ennui Syndrome’), he decided to lend a helping manicured hand.

Marco set them up in his janitorial staff suite, which consisted of a rotary phone not connected to anything, a tea pot, a picture of Eva Longoria, a small cot, and bathroom. It was there on the cot that Sequoia was born, with the helping hand of midwife Eshvin the Cook.  Eshvin was a man, but didn’t mind being called a midwife because he was a self proclaimed feminist.

The mother’s name was Katerina Grushenka Karamozztoff, and she fell in love with Marco’s riches.

While she fell in love with Marco’s riches, she also fell in love with Eshvin the Feminist Cook’s cooking.  She was hired on as Seafaring Captain of the World (the boat’s name was ‘World’), but ended up mainly reading romance novels and letting Eshvin cook for her.

Her method of raising Sequoia was to let the yacht staff watch out for her, make sure she was fed, and educate her. “To be entirely fair, she wasn’t a terrible mother,” wrote Marco Fapolo in his book “Records of a RWIES Sufferer.”  “It’s just that she didn’t really care at all about other people.

Sequoia grew up thinking that both Eshvin and Marco were her fathers, which appealed to Eshvin’s socio-political ideals, and to Marco’s ego. Marco had decided to stay on the open sea, as his syndrome seemed to stay under control as long as he was out on the open seas and had the option to swim with sharks whenever he wanted. Some social analysts conjecture that because Sequoia was educated in an isolated environment by a select few people with their own biases and psychological fragmentation, she developed somewhat of a quixotical paradigm.

Because she had grown up on a boat her whole life, and had very rarely set foot on land, she saw the inhabitants of the land as generally sub-human….un-evolved. Though she had met only a few “Landians,” as she called them, she felt so far superior to them that she took it as a sign from the ocean god Zorma the Zoomba Slayer that she indeed was that superior to them.  Marco, when seeing this take place, thought that maybe somehow Sequoia was his daughter (It was later confirmed that she indeed was, due to a particularly wild night in Kuala Lampur, which again, was not Marco’s doing, but was a result of RWIES). He would not know this fact however, as he developed a rare form of dementia which made him think everyone was running away from him because he looked like an angry tree.  He tried to run after them, but due to fully believing he was a tree, he couldn’t move an inch.  It was a very trying time, to say the least.

Eshvin tried to stop the madness that was obviously gaining a stronghold on Sequoia, to no avail. When she was 23, she determined that she would be the ruler of the seas, though she had no way of knowing how to go about doing this.  Marco, being a man of wealth and notoriety, knew exactly who could possibly help her.  Though he was proud of her feelings of superiority, he at the same time was a bit concerned about her wanting to rule the open seas.  After all, she did have the same last name, and the world knew that she was essentially ‘part of the family franchise.’

He remembered meeting a very self contained individual in Morocco  by the name of Svlaj K. at a ritzy hotel bar. He was a self proclaimed psychiatrist undergoing research related to cases of megalomania.  He offered Marco his card and advised that should he ever run into anyone who exhibited an extreme case of megalomania, in association with statements about wanting to ‘rule the world,’ or at least a portion of the world, then he should call so that the megalomaniac can be analyzed for the greater good of the people.

One night, on his way to a cocktail party Marco had planned for himself and other seafaring sufferers of  RWIES, he stopped by Sequoia’s “War Room” to let her know that he would like to introduce her to someone that could give her ‘advice’ for her seas of the world domination plan.

He thought that Svlaj K was a psychiatrist, and he had believed him when he said it (mainly because he had just taken a Xanax, and thought that a smartly dressed man wouldn’t lie to another smartly dressed man). Svlaj K and Sequoia spoke long into the night, and in fact into the next morning.  If anyone had been looking, they would have thought that the two were falling in love. What was really happening was that the meshing of two world views were dancing to the same tune, each following the lead of the other.  They felt strong.  They felt Fascism.  They Felt Fashion.  They felt slightly hungry for Filberts.


#7 – Grilled Cheese (aka Sasparilla ShaWilleeuhm)

#7 – Grilled Cheese (aka Sasparilla ShaWilleeuhm)




Grilled Cheese grew up in a monastery somewhere in the vicinity of the Swiss Alps.  He was left at the door one spring morning, where Brother Henricus Michaelis, a Senior Monk who was vying for the new Abbot position posted on Craigslist, found him.


Brother Henricus Michaelis had been craving a grilled cheese sandwich ever since he became tonsured in the Great Schema. 

 He just didn’t understand what the big deal was about grilled cheese sandwiches. Was it such a secular indulgence? He wondered this and other things, such as whether seals could knit, and if so, how well.

When he found little Sasparilla on the monastery doorstep that crisp spring morning somewhere in the vicinity of the alps, he felt emboldened. It was by no means a Martin Luther (the Protestant guy, not the Civil Rights guy) moment, but he knew that he needed to make a statement.

He thus christened the new member of the Holy Goatherders of  Nerthington Monastery “Grilled Cheese,” or “Sasparilla ShaWilleeuhm” (when the current abbot happened to be around).

Young master ShaWilleeuhm grew up strong on goat milk, and could identify the differences of 4300 different slices of goat cheese based solely on the smell and texture of the cheese.  He knew all 479 goats by first, last, middle, Catholic, and sometimes even maiden name. All was quite well for Grilled Cheese Sasparilla ShaWilleeuhm, as life was a simple matter of tending his flock of goats, saying a few hundred prayers a day, and attending mass at least twice a day.  Life flowed along like melting ice cream sandwiches filled with gummy bears until one fateful day, which happened to be March 15th of a year long forgotten.

Grilled Cheese was walking into town to buy some supplies for a few upcoming birthdays of his flock.  He needed flour, biscuits, butter, a piñata, and a pint of Mad Dog for Father Windsorley. It was to be a night of extraordinary fun and extravagance, to rival even Bilbo Baggins birthday party, though he unfortunately had no ring to make himself disappear for the goats.

While he was walking into the secular town of Grindelwald, he noticed that some people were standing in front of the engine of a black van that had a picture of Elvis Presley playing a dragon fiddle on the side.  He was taught by Brother Henricus Michaelis to be a good samaritan at least sometimes, “when it won’t get yourself maimed ya know,” as he would always say. He thought this particular quarry appeared to be fairly innocuous, with their drawings on their skin and machetes strapped to their backs.  He thought they were probably wheat farmers from the south, and so offered his assistance.

“Hello there good travelers.  Dost thou have troubles with thine ebony van, and can I assist with the repairs of said vehicle?”  He was actually quite adept at repairing small block engines, which he learned to do when he was a mere 8 years of age.

The wheat farmers appeared to be quite grateful, and seemed even jolly, breaking open new pints of Mad Dog in celebration and smoking something out of glass pipes.  “How grand!” thought Master ShaWilleuhm.  He knew this was an extraordinary day indeed. When he was finished repairing the van, he wished them a grand journey.

They insisted upon his going to the local tavern with them, to have a ‘few brewskys man’ with them.  He declined 5 times before they looked very offended and quite possibly bloodthirsty, so he thought it to be in his best interest to go with them.

He then sent a text to Brother Henricus Michaelis, saying that he was going to the “Loose Ladies Tavern” with his new friends for a drink, in order to carry out his full duties as a good samaritan.

When Brother Henricus Michaelis read the text, he nearly dropped his Droid.  It wasn’t that he was concerned about GC Sasparilla ShaWilleuhm going to the tavern (he had frequented it enough times dressed as David Bowie), but he had received a prophetic vision 14 years ago after he had ‘inadvertently’ consumed 4 buttons of peyote. He didn’t want to believe it at the time, but now he knew that the vision was true.

In his vision, Brother Henricus Michaelis saw an older (around 37) Master ShaWilleuhm going into the Loose Ladies Tavern with some people who had machetes strapped to their backs.  “Oh,” he thought during the vision, “they’re just wheat farmers from the south, so that’s ok.”  But the vision didn’t stop there.

Grilled Cheese proceeded to drink an amazing amount of alcohol, and even started smoking some substance out of a glass pipe with the southern wheat farmers. He started ranting things like “I’m bigger than the world bitches!  Yeah! HAHAHA” and “I’m the REAL Earl Grey!  I’m the REAL Earl Grey.”

What started as a one night stand with debauchery turned into a 5 year spiral into chemical derangement. After 5 years of it, he found himself mumbling something about government conspiracies on a street median begging for change from people in Volvos and Mazdas in Wisconsin. He was offered a chance to recover by what appeared to be a squirrel with a goat head driving a Mercedes (he had taken a few hits of LSD that morning for breakfast).  The goat head reminded him of something….something that he had lost.  He wept for the loss of something that he really couldn’t remember because he was just too fucked up to remember it.

The 42 put him through an intensive rehab session, and during the recovery time, to stave off boredom, they taught him how he could control minds.  And he learned, and was damn good at it.

Grilled cheese is now wanted by every intelligence agency in the known universe, and is still prayed for by Brother Henricus Michaelis from time to time.

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