Even though I live in the Hollywood Hills and party it up with my next door neighbors Alan Thicke and Bronson Pinchot, life hasn't always been so good to me.I once killed a man, but since my dad was a world-renowned orthodontist on the east coast, he was able to resuscitate him. If I only took the money from the older women I slept with, it never would have happened.Let's go to the beginning, which takes us to the eastern part of the world.My parents were living in Vietnam when they had my brother in 1964. He was said to be so freaking ugly, that the north and south both refused to claim him as their own. A huge war broke out as a result, forcing the United States to get involved. My family, of course, was forced to leave.So...they moved to Bangledash, where I was born. (And no, my brother's ugliness had nothing to do with them moving to Bangledash...that's just rude. They didn't have a car and this is as far as they could walk.)Anyway, I was born and a few years later I moved on my own to California when I was four. (Well, obviously not on my own. I had my penguin and orangutan with me.)I had gone to Los Angeles to audition for the role of something called the Life Cereal kid. I nailed the audition, but they told me that "since my name wasn't Mikey, I wouldn't get the part." The role ended up going to another kid named John Gilchrist, who as it turns out, wasn't named Mikey either. That really pissed me off. I mean....REALLY PISSED ME OFF.At this point my parents moved from Bangledash to New York because they had mistakenly heard that the Sex Pistols were looking for a new drummer. They weren't. But my dad showed up at the studio anyway. He doesn't even play the drums. And it was there that he noticed Steve Jones (lead singer of the Sex Pistols) had really, really bad teeth. Well, after an hour or so of doing coke lines and dropping acid with my dad, Steve Jones (lead singer of Sex Pistols) agreed to let my dad work on his teeth. And that's how my dad got into the business of orthodontistry.Throughout the 80s, I worked as a cabana boy in Las Vegas. While there one summer, as it would happen, I ran into (guess who?) John Gilchrist (Mikey- or so-called Mikey), who happened to be performing a puppet show at the Stardust Hotel. Well, I was so jealous of his wealth and fame, that I beat him to a pulp right there and then, causing him major heart failure. So I quickly called my dad (who luckily had his license to practice orthondistry at this point) and he flew out to save him. That's when I served six years in prison. But it wasn't because of the fight. As it turns out, it is illegal to have underground fight clubs with penguins and orangutans. How was I supposed to know? It's not like I was making a lot of money as a cabana boy anyway. Although the older women I met at the pool, while working, would accidently leave money on my dresser after I slept with them. I found that to be odd. I can understand one or two women. But all of them?While in prison, I met two guys named Pistolwhip and Bubba. For the first year I was their bitch. Anything they wanted. Pistolwhip was really good with his hands. Bubba liked it at a slower pace. I was a bit surprised too. I never thought guys like that would like to crochet. But to each his own, I guess. Well, as it turns out Pisty (as I used to mess around and call him) knew Bronson Pinchot from a drug trafficking charge that occurred back in the days of Perfect Strangers. (Apparently, Pisty and Bronson were anything but...)Since Bronson still owed Pisty a favor for a (well, we'll just say wrongful act) that went down, he said he would make sure I was first on the list for the house that stood between his and Alan Thicke.Now that I think back, I realized I should have just taken the money accidently left on my dresser by the older women I slept with after meeting them at the hotel pool. Because, if I did, I quite possibly would never have been so jealous of Mikey, causing me to bruise his face in a way that put him in a state of depression that convinced him to mix the suicidal combination of pop rocks and soda. I also would never has lost my best friends, the penguin and the orangutan. And, most importantly, I would have never gone to jail and lost six years of my life.But then again, I never would have crocheted with Pisty or Bubba, never would have partied with Bronson or Alan, and I never would have owned the 14th largest Crocheting company in the city of Burbank.I guess all in all it could be worse.I could be a scientologist.
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