Well, it all started last Saturday night when me and Mr. Moneybags had to stop Sandy from jumping off the golden gate bridge. I mean, strictly speaking we had to stop her getting in her car (we live in Iowa). This proved quite difficult partly because Sandy is infact well over eight feet tall and also because Mr. Moneybags exists only inside my head and in certain milton bradley games and was only able to offer stern words of encouragement and no actual physical help.

Yeah, I don't know when me and Mr. Moneybags started living together. He says he's always been here but I believe I can trace our meeting point back to the Robutussin. Hm? Yeah, that’s a case of Robutussin. Yeah it comes in cases! I also don’t know why we decided to adopt a mentally disturbed kodiak bear named Sandy.

Yeah, that Sandy, quite an interesting character really. I'm still not really sure where she gets her money from. Maybe it’s normal though. I mean, I don’t know. Maybe all bears are rich? But suffice to say, she is loaded.

I don’t know, maybe amassing all that wealth with no effort or work on her part led her to feel her life is worthless thus prompting this desire to jump off a bridge. Maybe it's because she's fuckin' crazy. It's probably not important.

Back to the plot. Restraining a kodiak bear is a lot like petting a puppy. But there's lots more blood (well...maybe just a little more...I don't know...I usually have shards of glass stuck in my hands from when I've been out back groping in the ol' glass pit, you know…you know how it is. So I wrestled Sandy to the ground as Mr. Moneybags cried "that's it old boy! yes, that curmudgeon is surely the cats pajamas where'd I put my drink?" Or whatever the fuck he says, I don’t even think that’s his real accent.

But yeah, my struggles with Sandy became increasingly futile and I realized I would have to resort to tranquilizers. The only real problem with this is that it is almost impossible to get her to take them straight up. The only way I can trick her into taking them is by wrapping the drugs up in a small child. Naturally this offends my conscience somewhat..I mean..c'mon...first I give a little kid drugs..then feed them to a bear. That's just plain evil.

I couldn't take it anymore. Between my insane and/or imaginary life partner and my adopted mentally challenged bear something had to give. What's more I think Mrs. Feathersby next door was starting to suspect something. I mean sure, she had 25 kids...but now that she was down to two it was only a matter of time before she noticed somethin' was up!

So I ran.

Well....drove...I mean Sandy's car was just sitting there (and it's real nice, like I said that bear is rich. Or maybe, for a bear, just middle class. I guess I never figured that out. But yeah, that, friend, is my story.