Greetings from the Toilet!!!!

It's your pathetic Mayor of Toiletown, Matt. Also known as the Deplorable Duke VonToitoi of the Crummy County Toiletham.

Sorry gang, but my life is not goin so hot lately. Long story short, your compadre, Matt, is literally living in his toilet. It smells to talk about, but here's how the whole thing happened.

So, Last Tuesday I was at the Aurora Mall playing my yuke by the fountain, which I do every tuesday. WHAT? SO I didn't go three Tuesdays ago!!! Do you even care to know why I wasn't there? DO YOU? No you don't.

Well, If you have to know, I was at the vet dropping $130 because my ferritt, Anne Frank, ate a taquito and it turned his insides out!! Luckily, she was prego, so, before it died, I got a lil baby ferritt, Anne Geddes, outta the deal... so....

I'm sorry I yelled again, but if you understood what is like to be me right now, you would take a dirt nap.

Anyways, I was playin my yuke by the fountain, mindin my own biz, playin everybody's favorite yuke song, Afternoon Delight, when this walrus-lookin nerdasaurus named Marvin (who we will call 'Moron' from here on out) asked me a simple question.

"Can I take a strum on your yuke bro"

Now, you all know that I am a pretty chill dude. You remember that one time when that horse-of-a-woman behind the counter at BK shorted me a taco, I was like, "No big woop. So I will only bring 35 BK tac's to my friend, Raul's, quinceañero. He'll be so wasted, he won't even notice." See. In the face of cultural diversity, I was totally chillaxed. For those of you who don't remember, I wil RE-tell the epic story of Raul's big 15th next week.

So, next thing I know, Moron Top-Heavy, is strummin my yuke IN THE FOUNTAIN!!!!I was so friggin ticked I wanted to friggin waste that blubberbuns, Moron. BUT, being the way chill dude that I am, I slowly backstepped behind the Crocs kiosk and cried myself to sleep.

(Reader, are you starting to understand why there's not a magazine callled "Toilet Living?" or "Home is Toilet?" I mean, cmon.)

"Hey, Yukey!! Matt! Wake up." These were the first words I heard when I awoke. They belonged to my good buddy, Reggie Ebonystein, the mallcop.

Yours truely was all dazed and jacked up and said, "Reggie... how's the yuke? Tell me its OK. Officer Ebonystein, DON'T TELL ME THAT moron DISSED MY YUKE IN THE FOUNTAIN!!! Say it aint so." I whimpered.

Reg obviously had know had know idea how GINORMOUS the friggin circumstances were and said, "What the funkle you doin sleepin and cryin and jacked up for? Crocs aint worth cryin over."

Needless to say, my yuke was in pieces. That's right. No more fountainside yuke classics such as, "Rich Girl" or "The Sign" or "Motown Philley" or "Rape Me" or "Dinah, Why Don't You Go Ahead and Blow Your Fuggin Horn Already" or "Can I Get a What What" or "Kokomo" or my very very very favorite, "Pure Imagination."

(Trumpets) BAH BAH BAH BAH BAH BAH BAH BAH!!! Dames and Gents!!! May I present to you, KING (life in the) CRAPPER!!!! Jeez Louise.