Sweitzer slipped me a mickey. That's how he won at pinochle. He knows I don't like it when he pulls that trash. That German bastard thinks he's superior to we Americans. He prances around with his black forest ham and his rotund, bloated wife. Sweitzer is a German foreigner bastard. I hate it when he comes over because we always find little brown smears on everything! He thinks he can spread his Nutella all over my house, without me knowing it! Well, I'll tell you something, -I can see through your filthy plan you whoremonger! He doesn't know that I can see it, but I can.

I know that once he spreads on the Nutella thick enough, he'll take certain liberties. And then BAM! He's colonized the living room. He'll put up all his little flags on the food in the refrigerator and on my lawnmower. And then he'll start replacing all my clothes with Turkish prison costumes. He did that near to five years ago and I showed up to Sunday mass looking like a fool. I became the laughing stock of the church. Pastor Dickens thinks I'm a circus freak now. He gave a whole sermon about me and how in the end times God will strike down all the Turkish prisoners.

Whenever we go to church now, I wait in the car while grandma takes notes for me. Then, once we get home, I use my sock puppet of Pastor Dickens to reenact the whole thing. So it's just like I was there. Just don’t tell the lodge brothers.