Upon parole, I got back to my roots as a carny, & landed a job at the Big Apple Circus, as a fire eater. Being the humanitarian that I am, I thought it was quite cruel to leave the lions caged up like that, so I freed them in the name of Mandela. This resulted in the deaths of 6 clowns, the ringmaster, and Jed- the ferris wheel operator. This did not go over too well with the higher-ups, and I was soon out on my ass. Now that I had plenty of free time on my hands, I took up yodeling & the polka. An avid polka dancer, I quickly rose to stardom as "The Polka King", a name given to me by my many fans. I appeared numerous times on "Arsenio" in my fez & kilt. While on the show for the umpteenth time, I met Minnie Pearl, who was there to promote her new cookbook- "Cajun cookin with Minnie", and I fell in love for the first time in my life. We began a 4 year relationship, in which taught her the nuances of polka, and she enlightened me as to the joys of hillbilly humor. Even though life was swell, eventually Minnie's cajun cooking triggered a severe gastrointestinal disorder in my bowels, and now I live on a strict diet of woodshavings, carrot juice, anchovies, & sangria. The discomfort of my disease had conjured up haunting memories of my hellish tour of duty in 'Nam. I tried to put my painful memories of 'Nam behind me, but it's icy cold grip keeps pulling me back in!!
Within a few months of my illness, I was chugging sangria like a fish & was too depressed to polka. And the worst part was that my dear Minnie (oh, how I loved her so) finally saw me for the regretful drunkard that I had become. Fed up with my physical abuse towards her & my insistance on being referred to as "Big Poppa", she dropped me like a hot potato & ran to the awaiting arms of Ernest Borgnine. At this point, a burning hatred for humanity had enveloped my heart & soul. I tried to reconcile my being, by joining the church of Satan. Unfortunately, those black-hooded posuers weren't cutting it in the hatred department. After realizing that nothing could ever quell my fury towards the human race, I grew my hair and beard long & took to the streets as a naysayer/prophet of doom. I donned my trusty sandwich board with the words "The end is near" scrawled on the front in my own blood, & strolled through the streets of lower manhattan.
One day I was making my usual rounds, ranting & spewing venom at passerby, when out of the clear blue sky, drops a naked & flailing Sheer Terror! The impact knocked the wind out of us both! After a brief fist fight over how we ruined each other's shit, we stopped and realized that this was more than a chance meeting, & not even the Devil himself could have paired up such a perfect duo of hateful misanthropes! And the rest... Well, the rest is history!
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