The unfortunate fool of a boy sat on his porch and watched with fascination as the guts of his parents were splattered all over his driveway! "Wow!" he thought. Those look yummy!  The boy swooped down on them with the hunger of a thousand deamons! He couldn't help it! The guts just looked like warm homemade apple pie! His father's backbone represented the crust. He was one sick little boy.


     After devouring his parents, he went into a fit of uncontrolable rage and fell in a tumble down his gut-smeered driveway! He rolled into the street, and was promptly run over by an oncoming garbage truck. His splattered remains were hurled into the air, then into the garbage compartment! The truck drove to a doll factory, and crashed through the side of the building sending all the garbage, including the idiot's remains, flying out of the truck and into a doll assembly machine. The boy was promptly put back together, with a few extra heads and arms to spare, including a doll face where one shouldn't put there face accept when alone with a person willing to let one put one's face there.


     Anyway, he was shot out of the machine, and he landed right smack dab on the burning-to-death garbage man. The garbage man, thinking the boy was some sort of deamon from hell, kicked the poor fellow in one of his heads! The boy flew into the air, and landed on the burning remains of the garbage truck itself. Things weren't looking too hot. Actually, they weren't looking too cool. The boy, now in flames, screamed from many mouthes as the truck exploded in a gut wrenching boom! The explosion hurled the boy approximately 30.52764186532854 miles across the neighborhood, where he crashed into the wall of a bakery full-force while in flight. He didn't go through, but there is a nice deamon-shaped imprint on the wall to this day. He bounced off the wall, and one of his 67 arms flew off. The arm flew through one of the bakery's windows and promptly became a new part of little Joey's birthday cake.


     The boy, well, the rest of the boy, flew backwards and crashed through the window of the emergency room at Helpless Hospital. As he flew through the air, one of his 23 heads was swiftly cut off by a swinging scalpal blade. When the freakishly stupid doctor realized what was going on, he promptly treated the deamon, I mean the boy, no questions asked. The last thing the boy said before the anesthetic took hold was this: "Ouch!"